


Every Day

by WonderBoy



Series: The Days Of Our Lives [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff, M/M, Mild Language, Nekotalia, Nyotalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-01-15 10:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 72,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1301827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderBoy/pseuds/WonderBoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every morning for the past four years, Arthur would make his way past the balcony of Francis Bonnefoy where a laidback Frenchman stood every morning to smoke. Every morning for the past four years, the said Frenchman would call down from his balcony a proposal. Every morning his proposal would be rejected but he hadn't given up hope just yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo....Every Day is an on-going fanfiction and will most likely be a part of an on-going series. It's also currently available on ff.net.
> 
> Enjoy~

Arthur Kirkland was known for living the exact same day over and over again. He wasn't really stuck in a never ending time loop caused by some foolish time traveling or anything like that. His life continued on at the same pace everyone else's did. On April 23rd, at precisely 10:15 a.m. if you were being specific, Arthur aged another year. He lived 24-hour days and was subjected to the irritating time change twice a year just like everyone else. No, 27 year-old Arthur's problem was not that he could not progress in life but rather that he chose not to.

At exactly 6:15 sharp every morning for the past six years, Arthur woke up, alone, in his quiet apartment. He took a shower of exactly six and a half minutes. Monday through Friday, Arthur then put on a crisp grey suit, white button up shirt, and simple red tie. He put the kettle on, got the morning newspaper, and came back in to finish making his morning tea. He made two slices of toast and burnt them every time. By this point in his life, he was used to the smoky aftertaste left behind the strawberry jam he spread across the burned bread. Never taking more than twenty minutes to eat, Arthur cleaned up his breakfast mess and refolded his newspaper, leaving it on the living room coffee table to be read at a later time. Arthur finished his morning routine by brushing his teeth and attempting to calm his messy dirty blonde hair, one of the few parts of his life he truly had no control over, before leaving his apartment. Arthur took the stairs to the apartment complex's ground floor, carrying his brief case in one hand and checking the time on his watch with the other. He always left the house by seven o'clock.

The parking lot for the residents of the apartment complex was behind the building and so Arthur walked down the curving paved path to his old car at a relaxed pace. His sleek black oxford shoes made a gentle clicking sound against the pavement usually accompanied by bird song, the sound of passing traffic, or a casual 'hello' coming from someone taking an early morning jog. Arthur liked this part of his morning especially well because no matter the weather he could stop to appreciate the nature around him.

The familiar path Arthur took every day was surrounded by tall bushes. In the summer and spring the bushes were especially beautiful, alive with colorful blossoms, buzzing insects, and lively small animals scampering to and fro. This particular late summer day was still warm enough for the path to be alive with activity. The leaves on the many trees surrounding the complex had begun to dye themselves to match the twilight sky but the drying leaves had yet to begin falling. Arthur's eyes, which had been described as 'emerald' once when he was in high school but he liked to think they matched the green color of the nature surrounding him, crinkled around the corners as an absent-minded smile relaxed the Brit's pale features.

Finally, the back of the apartment building came into view. Arthur would like to be thankful that he was almost to his car but by making it this far, Arthur was now preparing himself for the next part of his uniform day.

Francis Bonnefoy stood out on his balcony, relaxing against the wrought-iron railing keeping him from tumbling to the earth three stories below. Though the Frenchman was accustomed to sleeping and lazing about his house in next-to-no clothing, he always threw on some baggy jeans and an old shirt to have his morning cigarette. By now the 29 year-old was convinced that the nicotine was less of an addiction and more of a welcome old friend.

Slightly curled wayward hairs tickled the bare skin of the Frenchman, underneath the back collar of his shirt. Most of his long hair was tied away from his face with a thin hair band or ribbon but the wavy locks tended to be unruly and made their way out of their confines to frame his serene face.

Every morning Arthur Kirkland passed by the balcony of Francis Bonnefoy on his way to work. Every morning, Francis looked down at the Englishman with a lazy smile and called down to him:

" _Bonjour_ Arthur. Good morning."

A sinisterly adorable scowl would drag Arthur's rather bushy eyebrows closer together as he looked up at the Frenchman.

"Hn," He would grunt, turning back towards the parking lot. "Frog."

Originally, Francis assumes, the term was intended as an insult. Some sort of dig at his nationality. However, Francis and Arthur had been exchanging the same idle prattle every morning for four years and by now 'Frog' had grown to be a term of endearment reserved for Arthur's use and Arthur's use alone.

"Arthur dear, marry me?" Francis would propose every morning with a light hearted laugh as Arthur's retreating figure continued to grow smaller.

Every morning for the past four years, Arthur would make his way past the balcony of Francis Bonnefoy where a laidback Frenchman stood every morning to smoke. Every morning for the past four years, the said Frenchman would call down from his balcony a proposal. Occasionally, he would add more to the silly question. Usually phrases in French Arthur might actually be able to translate if he paid enough attention but they were usually just ignored.

"Go to hell you bloody frog!" Arthur called before he made another turn around the corner of the building and went to retrieve his car from the car shelter.

Every morning for the past four years, Francis Bonnefoy would propose to a stubborn Englishman who rejected him every morning for the past four years. Still, he hadn't given up hope just yet.


	2. Chapter 2

Alfred F. Jones hurried to his car because, like every morning, he was running late. He liked to blame how absent minded he was. To claim that if he could only find where his kicked off shoes had disappeared to, his peeled off jacket went, and keep track of his briefcase and car keys he _wouldn't_  always be scrambling to get to work on time. His brother disagreed. Matthew, prince of punctuality, would only call it "bad time management skills" and remind Alfred that if he finished up his work when he was supposed to and went to bed at reasonable hours instead of staying up half the night watching scary movies and playing video games getting up in time for work would be easy for him. What a mother hen.

Across the parking lot, from under car shelter, Alfred's prized possession smiled at him in the morning sun. A silver Saleen S7, Alfred's baby was not only well taken care of and powerful, she was beautiful too. If there was anything to make him feel better after a difficult morning it would be taking a drive in that gorgeous car and hearing her purr. Tingling with anticipation, Alfred rushed across the otherwise empty lot to his baby.

As he looked up from unlocking the door to his S7, Alfred noticed another resident of his apartment complex opening his car door not too far away. Arthur Kirkland. If Matthew was the prince of punctuality, Arthur was the king. Most mornings, Alfred and Arthur left for work around the same time, which Alfred figured, despite his "bad time management skills", had to count for something.

"Mornin', Arthur!"

Alfred was a naturally friendly person which tended to make people, if not like him, at least treat him pleasantly. Unfortunately, his chipper personality made him a bit oblivious to people who would rather he shut up than try and make conversation with them, such as introverted people like Arthur.

"Good Morning, Alfred."

The reply, though not malicious, was spoken in a tone of voice one would usually use with a misbehaving child who had failed to listen the first few times you gave them directions. Irritated but mostly level, with worn patience drawing the tone short. With no other comment, Arthur got into his car, an ugly little Nissan Micra, all white and rusty, and drove away.

Shaking his head, Alfred contemplated how anyone could be such an angry person all the time and slipped into his baby.

* * *

Arthur didn't relax until he got to work. Mornings, he had decided long ago, were his least favorite time of day Monday through Friday. The first part of everyday was fine. He quite liked his morning routine. It was just after that last curve in the path that ultimately led to him interacting with people that they took a turn for the worse. It started with Francis and his stupid, ridiculous  _marriage_  proposal and usually ended with Alfred who had too much money and energy than the obnoxious American knew what to do with.

Which was probably why Arthur enjoyed work so much. Of course he did have to interact with his clients and co-workers sometimes but for the most part, it was just Arthur and the numbers he needed to crunch. The numbers calmed him down after his mornings with idiots like Francis and Alfred who asked stupid questions and were just too damn happy and loud for the morning. Arthur was an auditor and he was good at his job. Financial statements were the language of his people and he knew the language fluently; backwards, sideways, and in every dialect you could conjure.

A meeting had been scheduled for the morning but it wasn't until ten o'clock and Arthur's first client of the day wasn't coming in until after lunch leaving him two blissful hours to himself. Work was another aspect of his life that Arthur didn't have complete control over. He didn't make the schedule he and his co-workers had to follow and there was no guarantee that his client would be understanding or cooperative with him. For a man like Arthur, the idea of not having control of exactly how things would go was a little unnerving, but the challenge was a bit of a thrill. And even he couldn't deny that his life was sorely lacking in "thrills".

Arthur went to lunch at noon. Not ten minutes away from his workplace was a small, family owned shop, tucked away into a corner. They served a lovely stew Arthur got every time he went and their tea wasn't half-bad either. The owner and most of the workers knew him by name after so long and what his usual was. Arthur actually never learned the name of the shop, but it didn't bother him. He knew it would be there when he needed it to be and so there wasn't a problem.

Today, Arthur walked to the shop. It was still beautiful outside and he saw no reason to waste the gas. Once he got there, Arthur took his usual seat at a table for two in a dark back corner of the place. A waiter had headed his way when the realized who he was, nodded hello, and went straight back to the kitchen. A smile perked Arthur's lips slightly at this and he relaxed back into his chair.

 _It's a rather good day when you look at it_. Arthur told himself. Sure he had to interact with Francis and Alfred this morning but those things aside, this day was turning out quite marvelous. And if service was fast enough, he might even get some bread pudding to finish off his lunch.

After a wonderful lunch of beef stew and bread pudding, Arthur returned to the office to learn that his second appointment of the day had rescheduled to next week, Wednesday. So his only client of the day was a Mr. Kiku Honda who happened to be one of Arthur's favorite clients, thanks to his respectful personality and understanding nature. Arthur had never had any kind of problem with him. Kiku Honda was scheduled to come in at 1:30, giving Arthur just enough time to make sure everything was in order for his meeting when the Japanese man came in, on the dot.

"Mr. Honda, it's nice to see you again." Arthur greeted, standing from his desk to shake hands with his quiet client. Kiku nodded a hello and took the offered seat across the desk. "So you would like to go over  _all_  of your financials with me today, correct?"

"That is correct, yes." He replied quietly, threading his fingers together and placing them on his lap.

It was a bit of a strange request for an auditor to get from a client and also rather tedious, but Arthur couldn't bring himself to be angry at the shy man for requesting such a thing. Kiku would never ask for something like this without good reason behind it and even if there wasn't a good reason, Kiku was a client Arthur could never bring himself to be angry with, and so the two began the tedious task of going through the financials of Mr. Kiku Honda.

The meeting between the two lasted a bit longer than either had anticipated but it didn't bother Arthur much and Kiku assured him that the rest of his day had been cleared and that the slightly extended meeting didn't bother him in the least. Everything of his was in order was the end conclusion the two made, which Arthur knew it would be. He was good at his job but if there was ever a problem, he was pretty sure he could count on Kiku to take over for him before one of his co-workers and he would come back to everything being in the perfect order that he left it.

"If you don't mind my asking, Mr. Honda, why the sudden need to make sure everything was in order?" Arthur asked as Kiku was getting ready to leave his office. It was a forward question that surprised even him when it slipped past his lips but Arthur pushed the surprise away, telling himself that the two had known each other long enough that it wasn't  _that_  strange for him to ask. "You normally check this once a year but much closer to the end of the year than now."

"I thought it would be better safe than sorry," Kiku admitted with what Arthur thought could almost be the ghost of a smile. "To make sure I had everything in order before the wedding."

Arthur's eyes widened to twice their usual size at the words of one of his oldest clients.

"Y-You're getting married, Mr. Honda? I-Congratulations."

It was minuscule but there was a smile brightening the pale face of the Japanese man standing in his office now.

"Thank you, Kirkland-san." Was Kiku's reply.

Arthur saw Kiku to the door, sending him on his way with more congratulations and a promise to call if he noticed anything strange pop up.

The surprise left by the news of Kiku Honda's impending marriage kept Arthur occupied long after a strangely familiar S7 came to pick up the shy man from the office.


	3. Chapter 3

Francis Bonnefoy's bare feet padded gently against the tiled floor of his kitchen. Late afternoon sunlight warmed the middle of the floor, filtering in through the thin curtains draped across the windows. A lazy smile teased the Frenchman's lips as he turned on the faucet and washed his hands in the sink. He had resumed work on a painting that he had been avoiding for the past few days and after three hours of work, he finally felt better about it. Lost in his thoughts about how nice the painting was turning out, Francis didn't hear the soft "meowing" coming from the door way. It wasn't until Francis felt something gently brushing against his legs that he acknowledged the other living creature in the room.

" _Bonjour_ Françoise." Francis greeted, turning off the water and grabbing a towel to dry his hands. The blonde Frenchman squatted closer to the long-haired feline who looked up at him with vibrant blue eyes. Françoise looked back up at her human, her tail flicking back and forth to show her appreciation of the attention he was giving her. An even wider smile brightened Francis's face as he put the hand towel back onto the kitchen counter before scooping the white cat into his arms and scratching behind her ear.

The pair made their way into the open living room. A warm breeze blew through the apartment through the open doors leading to the balcony and ruffled the pages of an open magazine sitting on the coffee table. Francis relaxed onto the couch and grabbed the magazine to flip through it. Françoise settled into his lap for another cat nap.

Days like these were a favorite of Francis. Time had no meaning as he created his masterpieces; as he wasted hours just relaxing with Françoise and their serene surroundings. There was no specific schedule for him to follow. It was for days like this that Francis quit the day job he had before. He might have been good-great even-at what he did but there was something missing from his scheduled, by-the-book life. As it was now, there were only two scheduled appointments that Francis always kept. One at 7:10, roughly, every morning, and one around 5:20 in the evening.

It was the faint sound of humming, and Françoise, that alerted Francis of the time. A wall clock across the room quietly ticked away the seconds, drawing 5:19 closer to 5:20. Francis apologized to Françoise as he gently lifted her off his lap and made his way to the balcony. The familiar, messy hair of a particularly grumpy Englishman was coming into view as the blonde leaned against the wrought-iron railing of his balcony and the faint humming was growing louder. It was when all of Arthur came into view that Francis realized he was the one humming. If the Frenchman had to guess, he'd say the tune was "God Save the Queen".

Francis could feel himself relaxing, to his surprise, even more as the soft tune reached his ears. Arthur's eyes were closed as he strolled down the paved path; his briefcase tucked under one arm, his hands buried in the pockets of his pleated trousers. His expression was peaceful and relaxed and Francis swore in that moment, a little part of him fell in love. It almost hurt him to interrupt Arthur's moment of serenity, but he also knew how much of a stickler Arthur was for his uniform day and Francis hated to disappoint.

" _Bonjour_ , Arthur." Francis called down, feeling a small rush as Arthur's green eyes opened to blink up at him. "How was work today?"

Arthur was suddenly struck with an internal dilemma. Every morning, Francis greeted him with a pleasant "hello" and a ridiculous marriage proposal. He responded each morning with a monotonous grunt, followed by an angry rejection. It was their uniform morning routine. Likewise, they had a routine for the afternoon. Francis would greet him, asking about his day. Arthur was expected to respond with the same, off-ish, indifference that he used in the morning before Francis's marriage proposal. However, today was such a wonderful day, Arthur was struck with the urge to respond pleasantly to Francis's question. Could he throw off the natural order of his day, a day he planned to be almost completely identical to all of his other weekdays, because he was in such high spirits?

"It was wonderful, Francis. Thank you for asking."

The words slipped past Arthur's lips before he could over think what a terrible idea it was. The surprise accompanied by the new reply was left evident on the face of both of the men present. Arthur's widened eyes stared up at Francis as a rosy color bloomed across his pale cheeks. A shocked smile spread across Francis's face as he looked down at the flustered and confused Englishman.

" _Magnifique_ , I'm so glad Arthur."

Arthur hurried away from Francis's balcony, not daring to look back or slow down until he reached the door that would lead to his apartment.

"I don't know what came over me." Arthur complained, shutting his apartment door behind him. He slipped out of his shoes and left his briefcase next to them as he to the kitchen. Half-way to the kitchen, Alice intercepted Arthur's attention. The brown-and-white Scottish Fold wound herself around her human's legs and meowed loudly.

"Hello there, old girl." Arthur replied to the cat's call, bending down to pick her up. "Did you have a nice day?"

Unblinking, olive green eyes stared back at him and Arthur sighed, resuming his trek to the kitchen.

"I don't know what happened. Everything had been going great until my walk back home." Arthur explained. Uninterested in her master's dilemma, Alice wiggled her way out of Arthur's arms and trotted over to her food dish. Arthur watched the feline dine with her back to him and he shook his head in disbelief. "Your indifference to my problem is touching. You know someone who didn't know better might think you care about me." Arthur informed her as he began making another pot of tea.

Alice and Arthur had been together since his freshman year of high school, ten years ago, when he found her as a young kitten, cast out alone and in the rain. Arthur was as antisocial as he was methodical and Alice wasn't exactly the friendliest feline but the two of them became fast and close friends. Arthur was used to talking about his day with the furry backside of his flat mate but he didn't mind. Alice may act like she doesn't care but when he's at his worst; she's always there for him.

Arthur took two scones out of his ceramic cookie jar, something he had made in high school for his mother that she "re-gifted" as a housewarming present when he moved out, to have with his afternoon cup of tea and went to the living room.

The previous conversation with Francis would continue to bother Arthur. It would haunt him when he was trying to go to sleep. When Monday came back around and he went through his usual morning routine, the thought that he had actually attempted to make pleasantries with Francis the previous Friday, would most likely make him stumbled over the few words he exchanged with the Frenchman. However, Arthur refused to let the slip up in his usual day mess with his evening.

He would have his tea and scones and read the rest of the day's paper. At 6:30 he would go back to the kitchen, clean up the mess he might have made while making his tea, and then make himself dinner. For example, tonight he would re-warm the last slice of the meatloaf he had made Monday night. Arthur would then clean up the kitchen once more, and make sure to refill both of Alice's bowls before he went back to the living room. A half-hour of news would occupy his time before he went to bed. From eight to nine o'clock, Arthur would do more on his needle work or read another few chapters of a book before going to bed, most nights accompanied by Alice who claimed the left side of the bed for herself.

As Arthur finally began to drift to sleep at nine-thirty that night, his afternoon "chat" with Francis replayed itself in his mind. Unfortunately for the meticulous Englishman, he had no idea that one slip up in his uniform day would send his scheduled life spiraling out of control.

* * *

Unlike Arthur, Francis was not asleep by nine-thirty. That particular Friday night in late August, Francis was working at the restaurant he had become head chef at once he quit his previous day job. That night he would be working from seven-thirty until close, which most likely would be eleven o'clock. He didn't mind. The restaurant was a five-star eatery and was well known for its exquisite French cuisine. Furthermore Francis had many friends that worked the night shift with him.

That particular Friday night however, Francis wasn't as focused on his work as he usually was, and people noticed. It started with the oldest waitress at the restaurant who asked Francis if he was feeling alright or if he needed to go home for the night and have someone cover his shift and ended with one of his best friends pulling him off to the side on their break.

"Your performance tonight has been a little less than its usual awesomeness and I'm just making sure you're doing alright." Gilbert Beilschmidt explained to Francis, draping an arm across his shoulders. Francis looked at the loud-mouthed albino with a lopsided, tired smile.

"Thank you for your concern,  _mon ami_ ,"  _Arthur smiled at me this afternoon_. "But everything is alright. I'm just a bit preoccupied tonight."  _His smile is even more beautiful than I thought it'd be_.

Francis made  _ratatouille, bouillabaisse_ , and a wide arrangement of other dishes but his mind was on the smile a grumpy Englishman had sent his way when he happened to catch him in a good mood. Finally, when Francis went to sleep that night around twelve o'clock midnight, he swore he would do anything in his power to make Arthur smile like that just one more time.


	4. Chapter 4

The first sign that Arthur's carefully planned life was no longer going according to schedule came Saturday morning. Unlike every morning before, the familiar ringing of his alarm clock did not wake him up at exactly 6:15. Instead it was a constant knocking on his front door. Since his alarm had not gone off, Arthur assumed that it was still quite early and could not exactly fathom why anyone in their right mind would be up that early, let alone what they wanted with him. Nonetheless he rolled out of bed, yanked on his robe, and went to stop the incessant knocking.

"Alright, alright I'm coming." Arthur called as he undid the two locks on his flat's door and pulled it open. Upon seeing the blonde man standing on the other side of the door, Arthur promptly shut it once more. That would explain the ungodly waking hour; the man on the other side  _wasn't_  in his right mind.

"No Alfred. The answer is no. I don't care what the question is."

Arthur and Alfred could fake pleasantries all they wanted, every week day morning for the rest of their lives for all Arthur cared, but Saturdays and Sundays were days he reserved for himself and damned if he was going to let the obnoxious American ruin that.

"It's me Arthur, Matthew. Remember me?"

The soft voice on the other side of the door made Arthur pause. Of course he remembered Matthew, Alfred's much more pleasant twin brother. It had been years since the two had spoken though. Slowly, Arthur reopened his door to study the appearance of his unexpected guest. The man on the other side of the door looked undeniably similar to the American Arthur interacted with on an almost daily basis with his blonde hair and wire glasses and friendly, inviting features. However, the man was a bit shorter and leaner than the muscled American. His slightly-darker hair was a bit longer with a strange wayward curl in place of a cowlick. And his wide, child-like eyes were more violet than the bright blue Alfred's were.

"Oh…oh of course I remember you Matthew. I'm sorry it's just-" The Englishman trailed off.

"I-I understand." The blonde replied with a small, half-hearted smile. A silence settled over the two as they stood there in the empty hallways when finally, Matthew cleared his throat. "Um…may I come in?"

The question snapped the Englishman to attention. Scrambling to open the door wider and invite the man in, Arthur silently berated himself. He couldn't believe he'd let himself get so distracted that he'd completely forgotten all of his manners.

"Please do."'

The two men made their way to Arthur's living room, where the Englishman invited his guest to sit on his couch as he took a seat across from him on the old rocking chair.

"So Matthew, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Arthur asked, adjusting himself in his seat. He was suddenly reminded of the fact that while his guest was dressed and ready for the day, he was still in his bed clothes.

The silence that fell over the two men as Matthew wrung his hands together and tried to think of the right way to form his request reminded Arthur of just how shy the man really was. He fondly remembered growing up with the two boys and the shocked expressions that came over people they met once they realized Matthew was there. It was so easy for the blonde to hide behind his charismatic brother that he never really came out of his shell around anyone but Alfred and eventually Arthur. Perhaps in the years that kept the two of them apart, Matthew had drawn back into his self.

"I've come on behalf of A-Alfred."

The content of Matthew's outburst surprised Arthur just as much as the outburst itself surprised Matthew.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout."

Arthur sat forward in his chair, running his hands through his hair with a sigh. He couldn't bring himself to be surprised by the fact that Matthew had come to talk about Alfred, only disappointed.

"Matthew-" Arthur started, ready to spew out to the blonde the same speech he gave in his senior year of high school but the fidgety blonde sat forward as well and held up his hand to silence Arthur.

"I-I know. I've heard everything you have to say on the subject. And what happened between you and Alfred is really unfortunate. But the two of you have proven that despite that you can act like adults around each other." At the disbelieving look Arthur sent his way, Matthew explained that he knew Arthur and Alfred spoke to each other almost every morning with usually pleasant greetings.

"Alright Matthew, after nearly ten years two grown men can act like mature adults around each other. I don't see how that is really important. Trying to mend the rift that ended out friendship all those years ago will just reopen old wounds." Arthur said before Matthew could continue with his explanation.

"Alfred misses you in his life Arthur, even after all these years he still looks up to you like an older brother, even if he won't admit it. And I have a feeling you still have fond feelings of him too, despite all of the negative ones that built up."

Matthew, who was better at hiding in the shadows than making his presence known, had grown up to be a man very good at reading other people. He had also grown up practicing on his brother and Arthur. Arthur, who knew this fact, realized early on in this conversation that he couldn't pretend around Matthew like he could around Alfred.

"What's your point?" Arthur may have realized that he couldn't pretend around Matthew but that didn't mean he had to give in to the blonde without a fight. An airy laugh that was more of a light expel of air than actual laughter came from Matthew and he smiled, a soft far away smile.

"Alfred's getting married." Matthew explained, choosing to ignore the surprised look on Arthur's face. "Mom and Dad have both passed away. Arthur, the two of us are really the only family Alfred has left and I know it would mean the world to him to have you at his wedding."

Arthur let the words sink in. He had heard about the boy's mother passing away through the grapevine but he hadn't heard of their father's passing. And  _Alfred,_  of all people, was getting married.

"When…when is the wedding?" Arthur asked cautiously. This question however seemed to make the other man even more nervous instead of putting some of his fears to rest like Arthur assumed it would.

"Um…S-September eighth."

"That's less than a bloody month from now!" Arthur snapped. Matthew winced.

"I-I know. They're not doing a big wedding though. Just close friends and family with them at the court house then a bigger reception with more guests." Matthew explained quickly, trying his hardest to reassure Arthur. "Most people have already been invited and there isn't going to be any kind of shower or anything beforehand so…it only  _seems_  like short notice."

It once more took Arthur a few minutes to process everything Matthew was telling him. If fact, he got so caught up in reviewing everything that had been discussed during Matthew's short visit, that it wasn't until Matthew cleared his throat and stood up, as if to leave, that Arthur realized he hadn't said anything for quite a long time.

"Why don't you take some more time to t-think about it, Arthur and give me an answer tomorrow. At brunch with Alfred and Kiku?" Matthew suggested.

"Kiku?" Arthur couldn't keep from asking.  _It has to be a coincidence,_ he told himself.

"Alfred's fiancé." Was Matthew's explanation. " You'll like him Arthur."  _Definitely a coincidence._

Arthur got up to lead his anxious guest to the door and before he knew it he had grudgingly agreed to the brunch date with the three men.

"It was nice to see you again, Matthew." Arthur said as an afterthought. Matthew, who had already been a few steps away from Arthur's flat turned back around to reply with a small smile.

"It was nice." He agreed, stepping up to give Arthur a gentle hug good bye.

Once Matthew was gone, Arthur headed for his kitchen. Normally he wouldn't have his morning tea and toast until after he was showered and dressed but he argued that he was closer to the kitchen and one day of eating first wouldn't hurt anything. So naturally, it wasn't until Alice sauntered into the kitchen and voiced a surprised 'meow' at seeing the undressed Arthur did Arthur realize something with seriously, seriously wrong with his carefully planned life and it didn't even have anything to do with the obnoxious fool Alfred.

Three apartments away to the left, right, below, and above Arthur could hear the crash of his porcelain mug shattering across his kitchen floor and his outraged shouting as mocking red numbers stared back at him from the stove top.

_11:30 a.m._


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur closed his eyes and took a few, much needed, deep breaths in order to calm down and regain the breath he lost while screaming nonsensical obscenities at the clock on his stove. While he was doing so, Alice took it upon herself to investigate the mess made by the dropped mug. Little and big pieces of shattered blue porcelain covered the kitchen floor. In the middle of the mess, where the cup had come into contact with the floor, cracks ran through the tile. Almost directly in the middle of the kitchen, there would be no way for Arthur to repair or replace the tile without redoing the whole floor and there was no way he would want to do that, no matter how small the room was. Alice decided that she had no interest in staying to see the second fit of anger Arthur was sure to suffer from when he saw his ruined floor and shattered, favorite mug and the somewhat overweight Scottish Fold scampered off. Perhaps after a nap she would feel more prepared to comfort her human.

As Alice left the room, she slid a piece of the broken cup out of her way. The noise reminded Arthur that in his shocked and angry state, he dropped a mug on the ground. Using the same mug almost every morning for tea, Arthur had a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought of what cup might, most likely, be spread across his floor in millions of irreparable pieces.

"Please let this be a bloody dream." Arthur whispered to himself as he sunk to his knees and gingerly picked up the biggest pieces off the floor. Dark blue and white colors looked back at him; fragmented remains of his favorite TARDIS mug. The Englishman almost wanted to cry. Tears of anguish to mourn the loss of his favorite  _Doctor Who_  memorabilia as well as tears of frustration of how his life was already falling to pieces-literally-and it was still morning. Twenty minutes later, Arthur placed the most salvageable pieces of the mug on the kitchen counter and stepped over the rest of the mess. He had concluded that, since this obviously wasn't a dream, he would take a shower and get dressed like he wasn't almost six hours behind schedule. Hopefully that dash of normalcy would calm him down enough to clean up the rest of the mess.

The six and a half minute shower was refreshing and Arthur felt a bit better about facing the rest of his day once he was dressed. Still, coming back to the kitchen, Arthur tactfully avoided the mess and made tea without taking a single glance towards it. Along with his tea, Arthur made a few, small cucumber sandwiches and filled a bowl with fresh raspberries and blackberries. He took his lunch to his rarely used "dining room" table. The small table sat four. Its table cloth matched the upholstery on the seats of the chairs and a delicate ceiling light hung over it, giving the area a small glow when it was on. It couldn't really be called a dining room as it was more of just a secluded little area, branched off his living room. Still it was a nicely decorated area that would be ideal if he ever had company over for dinner and it was the perfect place for Arthur to sit when he needed a moment to recollect and relax. A large window gave Arthur a beautiful view of the sprawling horizon next to his apartment complex. When the sun set, the beautiful pink and orange colors seeped in through the glass and gave Arthur's flat a warm, rosy glow.

Just as Arthur finished up his lunch, Alice showed up once more. She hopped into the chair next to Arthur and gave him a quizzical look as if she truly wondered if he was alright.

"I was being melodramatic. So I slept in a little. No need to act as if the world is ending." Arthur replied, surprised by the almost worried look in his feline's green eyes. Eyes that normally shown back at him with a glint that told him he shouldn't be a baby over the little things. Alice had gotten him through hell, truly knew him at his worst. On his bad days, she was always there to comfort him but remind him that he was also being completely ridiculous.

Arthur never could have suspected that Alice could sense just how far Arthur's life would spiral out of his control and into big enough mess that she wouldn't be able to pull him out of it all on her own.

* * *

Francis was walking past the open doors of his balcony around three thirty, Saturday afternoon when he saw Arthur taking a casual walk down the path. The blonde's army-green coat was open over his tan jumper. His dark slacks fell over casual brown shoes. It was possibly the most casual outfit Francis had ever seen the Englishman in. Putting down the dish he was drying and throwing the drying towel over his shoulder, Francis stepped onto the balcony. Arthur's back was to him now, but he couldn't resist.

"Arthur!" Francis called, leaning over the railing and smiling when the blonde turned to see who called him. " _Bonjour_."

There was a pause but finally, Arthur turned towards Francis fully and took a few steps back towards his balcony.

"Afternoon, Francis."

Francis wondered to himself how inappropriate it would be for him to take a moment and celebrate the fact that Arthur was suddenly giving the Frenchman his attention.

"I missed you this morning,  _mon ami_." Francis called down, deciding it would be in everyone's best interest if he kept his excitement to himself. "We didn't get to have our usual morning banter."

Arthur rolled his eyes. The late afternoon sun caught the olive green color and made it shine brighter. Oh what Francis would give to be closer to the Englishman. To look deep into his olive-green eyes until he could pick out each individual color that made them up.

"I was preoccupied this morning Francis. I'm sorry some other poor sap had to reject your marriage proposal. I promise I'll be here on Monday to make up for it." Arthur's tone was mocking but Francis knew the message was sincere. The two of them never saw each other on Sundays, unfortunately for Francis, thanks to the fact that Francis worked Sunday mornings and Arthur went to church in the morning.

" _Cher_ , those proposals are for you and you alone. I won't ask another soul for their hand in marriage until you finally say yes and once you do that, I won't need to ask anyone else." Francis replied with a teasing smile. Despite the playful tone, it was true. Francis had only ever asked someone other than Arthur to marry him once. At the time, both he and the girl were foolishly young and before she had any real time to think over his proposal, she fought and lost her last battle. It was probably for the best Francis told himself. He would have ruined her even more than her illness already had.

"Well you had better start asking someone else you git because I'm certainly not marrying you!" Arthur yelled up. There was a glint in his eyes that told Francis he had got him this time. Arthur had fallen for the bait and he could keep him there, under his balcony, arguing for hours if he wanted to.

"Where are you headed Arthur? You don't normally go anywhere on Saturday afternoons." Francis asked instead of egging on the blonde. If Arthur had somewhere important to be, it'd probably be best for Francis to let him go, even if he didn't want to.

"If you must know, I'm meeting with someone tomorrow for brunch so I'm going to church this afternoon instead." Arthur replied. He seemed a bit suspicious of Francis's behavior. Rarely did the Frenchman not jump at the chance to argue with him.

 _Someone?_ Le petit lapin _is meeting with someone?_

"When is church over?" Francis asked, not letting himself be discouraged by Arthur meeting someone. Arthur arched an eyebrow in response.

"Around five o'clock I imagine."

Francis smiled, standing up straight to go back inside.

"Perfect. You'll be just in time for dinner. I'm trying a new recipe. See you at five-thirty, Arthur."

* * *

Arthur's wristwatch read 5:25. A dark maroon door with gold lettering reading '3F' stared back at the blonde Englishman. Already he had been standing in the hallway wondering what ever could have possessed him to actually show up at Francis's apartment after church. Arthur had spent the past four years exchanging five minute arguments with the blonde Frenchman and after one friendly exchange; he suddenly thought he should have dinner with him? Arthur was obviously very sick. So sick in fact that he spent all of mass thinking about the overly friendly Frenchman with his golden curls pulled away from his face in a small pony tail with warm afternoon sunlight giving his tan skin a healthy glow and his devilishly handsome smile.

"I should go right to bed." Arthur told himself, turning on his heel to leave the apartment building and go to his own. "I'm obviously so sick I'm starting to become delusional."

The sound of a door opening behind Arthur froze him in place. Turning around slowly, he saw Francis leaning against the door with a smile on his face. Streaks of flour decorated his forehead and cheeks. His hair was still pulled away from his face and a towel was thrown over his shoulder once more while a pale blue apron, also decorated with left over flour protected his baggy white sweater and faded blue jeans. A long haired white cat stood at his feet, looking up at Arthur with wide blue eyes and a slightly wagging tail.

"Right on time,  _cher_ , come in." As Francis opened the door wider, allowing Arthur plenty of space to step through the doorway, Arthur let his mind spin. He saw Francis almost every morning, lazy with sleep and every afternoon he saw him once more, energized and happy. Even if he didn't like to admit it to himself, let alone anyone else, Arthur knew Francis was a very attractive man; but in that moment-in that moment when Arthur could see Francis's tired, proud, genuinely-happy-to-see-him smile up close. When he could reach out and swipe off some flour from Francis's, most likely very soft to the touch, cheek. Hell would have to freeze over, or burn according to Dante Alighieri, before Arthur could deny  _just_  how attracted Francis was.

"We're having chicken fricassee." Francis explained to Arthur, unaware of the thoughts flying through the Englishman's head in that moment, as he shut his apartment's door. Turning to his guest who was taking in the layout of Francis's apartment, Francis reached up to gently peel Arthur's light weight coat from his shoulders. The brush of Francis's fingertips against his neck made Arthur jump but he didn't say anything as the Frenchman hung up his coat on his coat rack next to the door. "I hope that's alright with you."

"I guess I'll be able to choke down some of your silly French food for one night." Arthur replied, slipping out of his shoes and leaving them next to the pair Francis had on the welcome mat. When he looked back up, Francis was looking at him closely. Arthur opened his mouth to say something when Francis reached out and brushed some hair away from his face. A bit of a smirk replaced the genuine smile Francis had.

"Funny, I always imagined you'd be taller up close."

Despite the blush heating up Arthur's face, he pushed Francis's hand away and glared at him.

"Funny, I always imagined you'd look better up close. I was wrong. You're still just an ugly frog." Arthur shot back. Perhaps Hell didn't have to change temperatures for Arthur to deny his attraction to Francis; the said Frenchman just had to open his mouth. "Besides you git, we're the same damn height."

Francis only laughed and turned to lead Arthur through his living room.

Arthur stopped about half way through Francis's large apartment and knelt down to give some attention to the feline that had been walking next to him the whole time.

"Hello there." Arthur greeted quietly, scratching the elegant feline under her chin. He smiled a bit when he instantly heard a loud purr come from her. Alice's purr was so quiet you almost had to lay your head against her to hear it.

"Françoise." Francis said, surprising Arthur. He looked up to see the Frenchman watching him pet the very content cat. "That's her name."

"It's nice to meet you Françoise." Arthur said, turning back to the cat who closed her eyes contently and nuzzled her head into the palm of his hand.

"You like cats?" Francis asked, watching the two interact. He was pleased to see Arthur getting on so well with Françoise. The thought that Arthur might not like cats, or that he might be allergic, hadn't even crossed his mind until that point. A warm smile lit up Arthur's face as he stood up once more.

"I love them really. She's beautiful." Françoise seemed to know she was being complimented and with a very pleased look on her face she left the two men in peace.

"Thank you. Do have one? A cat?" The two men continued to make their way through Francis's apartment.

"I do. An old, grumpy Scottish Fold." Arthur laughed. "She's-"

Words died in Arthur's throat as Francis led them to his balcony. It was strange, seeing the balcony from a different perspective. Strange and breathtaking. A table set for two was in the middle of the balcony. A vase of red roses sat in the middle, their petals the same shade as the table cloth beneath them. A tall white candle was on either side of the vase. Two chairs were placed on the ends of the table, in front of perfectly set dinner places. It was elegant and perfect.

"I hope this isn't too strange for you, Arthur." Francis said as he stepped forward and pulled a chair away from the table and inviting Arthur to sit down. "After growing up in France, I can't bring myself to leave the table undressed for meals." Arthur could only nod wordlessly as he sat down and Francis pushed his chair back in. "Alright. I will be right back with dinner."

Francis disappeared into the apartment, leaving Arthur to his awe. Arthur took a deep breath and reached for the already filled water glass. The cool perspiration on the outside of the cup felt nice against his warm skin as he took a big gulp of the ice cold liquid. Next to where the water glass had been placed sat a tall wine glass, filled with what he could only assume was white wine.

"I hope you don't mind white wine." Francis said as he came back onto the balcony, confirming Arthur's assumptions. "I myself prefer red but white was more fitting for the meal." The Frenchman laid Arthur's dinner plate atop the service plate and then did the same with his own.

" _Bon appétit,_  Arthur."

* * *

Francis walked Arthur to the door after their meal; though it was actually a good few hours since they had actually had their meal. After a small serving of frozen yogurt and fresh fruit, the two men sat out on the balcony chatting. Sometime they were arguing, sometimes-mostly on Francis's part-they were flirting, but they stayed out there talking like they were old friends until the sun set, the stars came out, and it finally just got too cold for the two of them to stay out there without coats on.

"I-Thank you." Arthur stopped outside Francis's door and he could feel himself almost smiling. "Thank you for dinner. It actually was really fantastic, for a French thing." Arthur teased Francis a bit. Francis almost smiled back.

"Thank you Arthur. I'm glad even someone like you, who most likely doesn't even have any functioning taste buds left, could enjoy it." Francis teased back. In the past few hours he had heard a few horror stories of Arthur's cooking attempts.

"Per-Perhaps we can do this again sometime." Arthur said finally, dropping the volume of his voice considerably. "It was nice."

"I hope we can." Francis agreed. The Frenchman leaned outside his apartment suddenly and placed a butterfly-light kiss on both of Arthur's cheeks. "Good night,  _le petit lapin_. I look forward to seeing you on Monday."

Arthur could only stutter back a good-bye and stumble away from Francis's flat, wondering what was wrong with the muscles in his face and why he couldn't stop smiling.


	6. Chapter 6

_Francis's fingertips were rougher than Arthur thought they would be and their gentle touches tickled his sensitive sides. He tried to squirm away from the feeling but he was trapped beneath the Frenchman currently placing gentle kisses along his jaw and had no way to escape._

_"Arthur, relax." Francis whispered to him, raising his hands to cup Arthur's flushed face. The Frenchman gave Arthur a teasing smile before he lowered his head to deliver a searing kiss to Arthur's parted lips._

_Arthur felt himself gasp at the contact. His whole body arched into the kiss and his sweaty hands released the disheveled comforter from their death grip in order to knot themselves in Francis' loose curls._

_Eventually the kiss ended with the two of them parting for air. There was still a smile on Francis's face as he lowered his head and placed a breathless peck on Arthur's lips, nose, and forehead. He bent his head lower still to whisper into Arthur's ear:_

_"Man, you been a naughty boy, you let your face grow long. I am the eggman, they are the eggman. I am the walrus, goo goo g'joob."_

That morning, Arthur decided it would be a good idea to stop leaving his radio alarm clock on, on Sunday mornings.

Well aware of the fact that there was no way he'd get back to sleep with that image in his head, Arthur rolled out of bed and started the day with much less enthusiasm that he usually did. He couldn't quite figure out if it was thanks to the disturbing awakening or the looming brunch with Alfred. Most likely, this was the cause of the urge Arthur had to put off taking his morning shower for as long as he could. Unfortunately for Arthur, he hated to break from his uniform life and after two days of almost-chaos, Arthur desperately needed that dose of normalcy.

That morning, Arthur's usual six and a half minute shower seemed dreadfully long. Try as he might, Arthur couldn't help but imagine another presence in the shower with him. Calloused fingers replacing the trailing water droplets and gentle bites standing in for the harsh spray. Having dinner with Francis the night before was obviously a very bad idea for Arthur. It had been so long since he had anything even resembling romantic interaction with another human being that his mind was running far ahead of him. Thankfully his heart wasn't nearly as foolish.

Three soft knocks sounded on Arthur's door just as he was putting his tooth brush away. Checking to make sure everything was in place (his shirt was tucked in completely, his hair was as controlled as it could be, his shoes were on the right feet and matching, he had the same colored socks on) Arthur opened the door with a forced smile. Matthew stood alone on the other side. His hands were tucked into the front pocket of his favorite, overly-large, red sweatshirt and his faded jeans, that were obviously too big for the lean Canadian man, covered most of the top of his red high-tops.

"This brings back memories." Arthur greeted, waving a hand in Matthew's direction. Arthur hadn't seen the blonde dressed so casually since the last time he had spent a weekend with Matthew and Alfred in high school.

"I figured nothing was wrong with dressing casual today." Matthew reached up to readjust his glasses and brush some of his long hair out of his face. He seemed a bit different to Arthur, than he was on Saturday morning, but the Brit couldn't put his finger on what had changed other than his clothes. "A-Are you ready to go?"

"Right. Let me just grab my keys." Arthur replied, remembering that they  _were_  supposed to be going somewhere. Quickly he found his coat and checked to make sure his apartment keys and wallet were in the pocket. Everything in order, Arthur allowed Matthew to lead him into the hall and shut and lock the door behind them.

"I-I thought I'd drive us there and j-just bring you back after." Matthew explained as the two made their way down the stairs of Arthur's apartment building away from flat 3E and towards the lobby.

"That sounds fine, Matthew." Arthur said with a small hum of agreement. Matthew replied with a half-smile.

Outside, Arthur met a strange, rusting vehicle. The red paint was old and faded in places and it didn't even have four matching tires. When Matthew tried to open the passenger door for Arthur, he was forced to wiggle the door handle for a few minutes before the creaking door finally popped open. A slight blush dyed Matthew's cheeks as he gestured for Arthur to get in.

"What is this?" Arthur muttered to himself, sliding into the passenger seat. The leather was ripped and worn. Of course, Matthew overheard the comment and his blush darkened.

"L-lada. It's called a Lada. I know it seems pr-pretty rough but it's a good car. Really." Matthew shut the door firmly and walked around to the driver's side. Arthur winced as if he had actually been hit by the door. He felt much safer in his little Nissan Micra and even he had to admit that the poor vehicle was starting to deteriorate but still, he hadn't meant to embarrass or offend Matthew with his last comment.

"I'm sorry Matthew," Arthur apologized once the Canadian was in the car and starting it up. "I didn't mean anything by that comment, I just have never seen one of…these before." Once more a half-smile ghosted over Matthew's pale features.

"D-don't worry Arthur, I'm not insulted. I-I know it looks pretty b-bad on the outside but it's a reliable car."

The rest of the ten minute car ride passed in surprisingly comfortable silence. Arthur was rather thankful for the time to himself as he figured he would need a few minutes extra to prepare himself to spend an extended amount of time with Alfred. On top of that, he hoped he could completely banish from his mind the dream he had been experiencing before they reached the restaurant. If his radio hadn't blared The Beatles stream of consciousness song  _I am the Walrus_  earlier that morning, effectively killing any arousal Arthur may have had in the dream or out of it, he feared exactly how far the runaway fantasy would have gone. Perhaps he should try dating again, obviously if Alfred was getting married at twenty-five it couldn't be  _too_  hard. Surely a few dates with a nice…girl would get his mind of off his unfortunately extremely handsome male neighbor.

"It's just been too long."

"What was that?" Arthur looked up from his hands where he had been focusing most of his attention to see Matthew looking at him curiously from behind his thin glasses. Finally Arthur realized he had said his last thought out loud and couldn't help but wonder briefly what else he had said during the drive that Matthew had either politely ignored or simply didn't hear.

"Oh it was nothing. I was merely talking to myself." Arthur reassured Matthew quickly. The blonde didn't seem to believe him but he didn't push the matter, putting the sputtering car into park and turning off its engine.

"Well we're here."

Arthur looked away from his companion to the building in front of them. Large front windows were on the left half of the front of the building. Through the windows, Arthur could see posters, records, guitars, and countless pictures with scribbles he could only assume were signatures scrawled across them. Barely an inch of the visible walls were bare. The booths and bar stools had matching upholstery of the shiny red variety. He looked over at Matthew with a somewhat confused expression on his face and the Canadian man laughed, opening his door to get out of the vehicle.

"It's like an old fifty's diner. It's Alfred's favorite." Arthur wasn't so sure how comfortable he felt going into a place honored as "Alfred's favorite", knowing the American's diet when they were growing up, but he swallowed (most) of his fears and joined Matthew outside. The two men stood outside the building for a few minutes waiting for Arthur to collect himself one last time.

"R-Ready?"

Arthur sighed, stepping forward and opening the door for Matthew.

"I'm as ready as I ever bloody will be I suppose."

Matthew smiled to himself as the two went into the diner.

A young hostess with wavy brown hair in a high pony tail greeted them at the door with a friendly smile. Matthew and Arthur took a good look around the place and realized they had beat Alfred and Kiku there. So Matthew explained to the hostess that two more would be joining them. The young woman came around the side of the hostess stand with four menus in her hands and led them to their seat. A pink scarf was tied around her neck and her white, short sleeved blouse was tucked into the high waist band of her pink poodle skirt. If that part of the ensemble didn't throw Arthur through a loop when he first laid eyes on it, her pink, white, and black, old-fashioned roller skates did.

The table she presented to them was a large booth with a clear view of the front windows. She left them with the menus and promises that their waitress would be with them in a few minutes. Matthew and Arthur had only been seated for a moment when Arthur looked up from his menu to see Alfred's familiar silver S7 pulling into one of the parking spaces directly in front of the building. Alfred climbed out of the driver's side and stretched. He wore a pale blue button up shirt tucked into his black slacks but the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and the first few buttons were left open. The shade reminded Arthur of the apron Francis wore the previous night. Arthur shook his head to get rid of the thought.

Alfred shut his car door and quickly jogged around the back of the vehicle in order to open the passenger door for his fiancé. The wind blew back his golden bangs and for a second, the thought that he need a haircut entered Arthur's mind but he pushed the thought away in exchange for surprise caused by Alfred's chivalrous act. Arthur acting like a worrisome mother hen over Alfred would only make things worse, bring back more of the terrible memories from high school. He just needed to keep the same "indifferent" cool he usually kept around Alfred nowadays.

Alfred's fiancé stepped out of the car to reveal that he was significantly shorter than the blonde and obviously embarrassed by Alfred's need to open the door for him. Arthur chewed on his bottom lip nervously as he studied the short, dark haired man half-heartedly arguing with the smiling blonde towering over him. As the two of them were standing there, a breeze ruffled their hair and Alfred leaned over, reaching into the car and pulled out his old bomber jacket.

Arthur looked over at Matthew with an expression that clearly showed how ridiculous he thought it was for the blonde to  _still_  have the jacket after all these years. Matthew laughed in response.

Alfred draped the large coat over the narrow shoulders of his fiancé and Arthur could see the blush dye his face from where he was seated. Alfred's smile only grew and without a second thought cupped his fiancé's face with both of his hands and kissed him squarely on the mouth. Arthur felt a bit embarrassed at seeing the open display of affection and turned away from the window. Matthew was looking down at his menu with a small smile on his face.

"They're always like that." He said, mostly for Arthur's benefit.

A few moments later, Alfred and his fiancé joined them. Matthew stood up and moved away from the table, gesturing for the two of them to sit together in the booth he had been occupying, across from Arthur. Arthur stood up shortly after as Alfred pulled Matthew into what looked quite a bit like a rib-crushing hug. Once released from his brother's choking grasp, Matthew gave a quick, light hug to the shorter dark haired man.

Arthur cleared his throat "Good morning, Alfred." It was the first time in a long time he started any type of conversation between the two of them. Alfred studied his face for a few tense seconds before he smiled and pulled Arthur into a hug as bone shattering as the one he bestowed upon Matthew. Arthur wasn't completely sure what he should do with his arms at first but slowly he reached up and returned the hug. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if the two of them just forgot about the fight entirely and returned to the way things were before.

Once Alfred released Arthur from his hug, He turned to his fiancé who gave the two of them a small smile.

"Arthur, this is-"

"Kiku Honda." Arthur interjected. Kiku gave Arthur a small smile, bowing in his usual formal greeting.

"Kirkland-san, it is nice to see you again."

Alfred and Matthew exchanged a look that clearly showed neither of them had expected Arthur and Kiku to know each other.

"Quite a small world, isn't it?" Arthur said pleasantly, thinking back to Friday afternoon when Kiku had informed him of his engagement and then of Saturday and the surprise he felt when he heard Alfred was going to marry someone named "Kiku". "I didn't believe Matthew when he said Alfred was marrying someone named Kiku and yet here you are." Arthur admitted.

"Alfred-sa-Alfred told me we would be meeting someone but I hadn't expected you." Kiku replied.

Finally, Alfred recovered from his surprise.

"You guys know each other?"

Kiku was the first to respond.

"Alfred-sa-Alfred you picked me up from Kirkland-san's office on Friday." Kiku tried to remind the blonde. It took Alfred a few minutes to remember what the small Japanese man was talking about but finally it clicked and the three with him could see realization dawn on the blonde.

"That's how you two know each other?"

Arthur chose to ignore Alfred's overreaction to turn to Matthew.

"I'm an auditor. Mr. Honda is one of my clients."

Matthew gave an understanding nod and then gestured to the booth.

"S-should we sit and stop making a scene?"


	7. Chapter 7

Their waitress was a sunny teenager, dressed identically to the hostess other than the blue color in her skirt, scarf, and roller skates where the hostess wore pink. Her eyes matched her skirt and her blonde curls were half-heartedly restrained in a sloppy bun.

She took their drink orders, two coffees, two teas, and four waters. When she brought the drinks back, a few minutes later, she brought along with her a small notebook to jot down their food orders in. She left them with the promise that their breakfast would be there shortly.

For the life of him, Arthur couldn't remember her name.

"No hamburger for breakfast, Alfred?" Arthur heard the words spoken in his own voice but he couldn't honestly believe they had come from his mouth. He could feel Matthew's wide, surprised gaze on him as he tried to keep a calm expression on his face. Across the table, Alfred held his water glass to his mouth for a few tense moments, not taking a drink or putting the cup down. Kiku looked in between Arthur and Alfred, obviously not sure what was taking place between the two of them. Finally, Alfred placed his water glass back on the table and barked out a short, almost embarrassed laugh.

"Actually, as much as I'd like to, between Kiku worrying about my health and everything I'm learning and seeing in med school, I just can't bring myself to do that anymore. Not that I don't still eat an unhealthy amount of them." Alfred explained.

Arthur needed a couple minutes to actually let those words churn themselves through his mind a few times.  _Med school? Fucking med school?_

"You're a…med student?" Arthur had trouble forcing the words out of his parched throat.

Kiku took a quiet sip of his steaming tea. Matthew shifted his weight. Alfred reclined back in his seat and nodded.

"I'd like to become a pediatric surgeon one day."

"Th-That's great Alfred. Really great. I'm…just surprised." Arthur stuttered in reply, taking a drink of his water and wiping his brow with his napkin. Alfred smirked.

"What, didn't think I had it in me?"

_No._

"No, that's not it Alfred."  _Not entirely_. "But…what happened to wanting to be a police officer or a fireman or…a 'superhero'?" Matthew and Kiku both did terrible jobs of hiding their smiles at Arthur's question whereas Alfred just rolled his eyes.

"Well I'm actually a volunteer firefighter right now. And realistically, a doctor, a firefighter, jobs like that are probably as close as I'm going to get to being a superhero." Alfred admitted, a light blush actually dyeing his tan cheeks. "And since children are the only ones who still 'believe' in superheroes, or so I've been told, I figured why not cater to them and actually be someone's hero?"

Arthur let Alfred's admission float around in his mind for a while. It was a surprisingly mature change in Alfred from what Arthur was used to. And Arthur supposed it was almost a bit…inspiring.

"I'm impressed Alfred." Arthur admitted, refraining from smiling when he saw Alfred perk up a bit with pride.  _Impressed and a bit proud of you._

Oh that uplifting note, their food arrived.

Conversation grew quite limited once the four started eating and Arthur had to reluctantly admit that he could understand why the small diner was Alfred's favorite.

Arthur could almost go as far as to call the whole experience, relaxing, until Matthew dropped a large bite of pancake, oozing maple syrup, right into his lap and then proceeded to flip over the rest of his plate and knock his water glass to the floor. His mouth was hanging open and his gaze was fixed on the window on the side of the restaurant. Arthur honestly couldn't determine if Matthew was more bothered by the mess or whatever the hell he was starting at.

"Mattie are you okay?" Alfred demanded, hoping up and grabbing some spare napkins from the little metal holder next to him. Matthew stood up as well, much slower than his brother, and took the offered napkins, mopping up the syrupy mess on his clothes first before moving on to the mess on the table. Arthur waved over their waitress in order to get some actual towels to clean up the majority of the mess and Kiku tried to right the toppled plate of food and water glass without making an even bigger mess.

The door opened accompanied by loud laughter Arthur was positive would be impossible to forget after hearing it even once. Their attention was drawn to the two customers walking through the door thanks to the laugh. The man was very tall, but the real attention getter would have to be his pale skin, silvery blonde hair, and red eyes. A notably shorter brunette woman had her arm threaded through his, smiling up at the man as he told a story with animated arm movements and his identifying laugh.

"Is that…Gilbert?" Alfred asked after studying the couple for a few seconds. Arthur vaguely remembered the name Gilbert. It was associated with a rather obnoxious albino who was a few years ahead of him in high school. For whatever reason, he had the feeling the Gilbert he was thinking of claimed to be "Prussian" instead of "German". If Arthur remembered correctly…Gilbert was a casual friend of Alfred and Matthew and had a younger brother about the same age as them.

When the couple stopped in front of the hostess and requested a table for two, it was painfully easy to hear his German accent over the faint noise of a few other customers. Perhaps it was the same Gilbert.

"That  _is_  Gilbert." Alfred agreed, waving when the pale man turned towards them. Recognizing Alfred, Gilbert waved back with a wide smile, winking at Kiku, and nodding politely at Arthur. However, when his peculiarly colored eyes stopped on Matthew, they widened. He instantly turned back to the woman looking past him to smile at the table and give a small, friendly wave. His movement was too quick, too unnatural for them to be able to brush it off as he not seeing Matthew as some people had a habit of. Matthew quickly sat back down, avoiding anyone's gaze in exchange for pushing around the few bits of his breakfast left around the plate. One by one the rest of the table sat down, each looking at Matthew with a somewhat surprised expression. Matthew obviously wished they would all go back to their meals and ignore him.

"Is Gilbert with that Hungarian girl? Elizabeth or something?" Arthur asked, clearing his throat. A tense silence had suddenly fallen over their table. Everyone's attention had been drawn to Matthew and no one was eating or saying anything.

"Elizaveta." Kiku confirmed with a slight nod of his head. "T-They're good friends."

"I hope that's all they are. Looks to me that they're a little more friendly than  _friends_ and I could have sworn she married some other German guy." Alfred muttered.

"Roderich?" Arthur asked, arching an eyebrow. "He's Austrian." Alfred rolled his eyes and maturely stuck out his tongue. Arthur refrained from reaching over and smacking him.

This comfortable banter between the two of them seemed to restore some normalcy to the table and though Matthew would check over his shoulder at random intervals, they all finished breakfast without any other disasters.

Once they were all done eating and the dirty dishes, minus their water glasses and coffee/tea mugs which were simply refilled, had been cleared away it was time for them to get the whole point of the brunch.

Alfred exchanged a look with Kiku, and then Matthew, and then finally he looked Arthur in the eye.

"So...Kiku and I are getting married." Alfred said matter of factly. "On September eighth."

Arthur nodded. Alfred sighed.

"The wedding itself isn't going to be a big deal, though we are having your usual wedding reception to celebrate with everybody. But for the actual wedding, it's just going to take place in the court house. Mattie's going to be my witness and Yao, Kiku's older brother, is planning to be his." Alfred took a deep breath and then a drink of his water before continuing. "All we really need there are the witnesses. And the judge. And us of course. But we're still having a few close friends and family members and it would mean…it would mean a lot to us-to me-Arthur, if you were there too."

Alfred shifted nervously in his seat. Kiku, surprising Alfred the most, reached over and held the blonde's hand to calm him down. The two exchanged a smile.

In the moment, Arthur knew he had never seen Alfred look at anyone with the kind of pure, raw love and happiness that he looked at Kiku with and Alfred had always been an open book when it came to emotions. As for Kiku Honda, Arthur had only known him a few years and even then it was in a strictly work environment. Despite that, it was pretty obvious to Arthur that Kiku felt the same way about Alfred that Alfred felt about him.

It was also pretty clear that Kiku didn't know what had happened between Alfred and Arthur, or how close the two of them had been when they were younger. And if his blush was anything to go by, Kiku really didn't like the PDA Alfred seemed to have no problem flaunting. Yet he pushed those worries away to be able to give Alfred just a small bit of comfort in this situation. As much as he'd hate to admit it, Arthur felt a pang of jealousy towards the happy couple.

Matthew looked in between the happy couple and Arthur and he smiled a bit too. His years of being a wallflower had given him impeccable people reading skills and it didn't take long for him to it figure out. Alfred had put the fight between he and Arthur almost completely behind him and even though Arthur had a ways to go, he was still happy for Alfred in this moment.

"Thank you for the invitation, Alfred. I'd love to be at your wedding."

* * *

Of course then came time for them to pay the bill.

Alfred and Arthur both had their wallets out, ready to pay when they realized that the other was doing the exact same thing.

"Arthur, put your wallet away. There's no reason for you to pay." Alfred told the Brit with an unnervingly calm tone of voice. Arthur sent the American a strange look.

"Alfred, don't be ridiculous. You're a med student. You really shouldn't be going around buying people breakfast." Arthur argued back. Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Arthur just take a look outside at that car. Do I really seem like I'm suffering, med school or not?"

"Well no. And I still don't bloody well understand how that is but that doesn't mean you can go around throwing your money away nilly-willy!"

Like all reasonable adults, the two attempted to settle their differences with a silent "glare-off". Meanwhile, Kiku had managed to get the waitress's attention and slip her a small, brightly colored plastic card. She came back a few minutes later and had him sign off a rectangular piece of glossy paper and she returned his card to him. Matthew fished out of his pocket, his worn wallet and pulled out money for the tip. He then cleared his throat to get the attention of the two stubborn blondes at the table. They had gotten this far without blood being shed and he'd really like to keep it that way.

"Come on, let's go." Matthew beckoned, standing up and stretching. Arthur noticed that he tried to avoid looking over to see Gilbert and Elizaveta but didn't seem to do such a good job.

"We're leaving?" Alfred honestly sounded so sad and childish in that moment, Arthur almost wanted to stay.

"Yes Alfred, come on."

Alfred looked between the standing Matthew, Kiku who was getting up from where he was sitting, and then at the table where the only things left were their drinking glasses and the waitress's tip.

"Kiku! Mattie! Why would you do that?"

Matthew wouldn't even let his brother finish his complaints, reaching over and pulling the obnoxious blonde out of the booth.

"Come on Alfred, what's done is done, let's go."

Matthew pushed Alfred towards the door, letting Kiku take his hand and lead him the rest of the way out of the diner, nodding solemnly as Alfred complained about what the two of them did while he and Arthur were ah…deciding who would pay.

"Let me pay you back." Arthur offered when Matthew looked back at him, waiting for the Brit to be ready to leave.

"Nonsense. Kiku wouldn't even want to money back."

Arthur followed Matthew outside the diner and he saw, though he didn't hear, Alfred and Kiku arguing about something and yet both of them were smiling. And the sun was shining, and he didn't worry about fighting with Alfred, and Matthew felt comfortable with him still.

And happy memories of last night's dinner where he and Francis argued while smiling and then just talked while smiling for hours upon hours out on Francis's balcony came back to him and Arthur wasn't even bothered by how happy the memories made him in that moment.

Perhaps a chaotic day every once in a while is a blessing.


	8. Chapter 8

Once Alfred and Kiku had drove off, their argument resolved and then promptly forgotten, Matthew and Arthur made their way to Matthew's trusty little red Lada. Arthur asked Matthew to drop him off at the supermarket a short distance away from his apartment. He always did his shopping on the weekend. Matthew tried to stay with Arthur, offering to wait until the Brit finished up his shopping and then driving him home so that he didn't have to carry the groceries back on his own but Arthur insisted that he would be fine. He took a shopping trip once and week and since he only needed to provide for himself and Alice, he rarely had to bring back a large amount of groceries.

The two parted after exchanging phone numbers.

Arthur had never been a fan of large crowds or busy places but he didn't mind his weekend shopping trips. The supermarket he favored rarely was busy and there was something relaxing about wandering down the straight, organized aisles.

"I need bread, milk, and…ah meat. Yes, I'll be needing something more for dinner this week I suppose." Arthur sighed, picking up a small bag of dried cat food for Alice. Relaxing and simple, organized and quiet. And yet…there was suddenly something terribly monotonous about the activity. "Two days with company and suddenly I'm lonely?" Arthur shook his head. He could see his chubby little Scottish Fold at home looking up at him with her olive green eyes. She'd think he was being silly.

Arthur turned his cart down the next aisle. A couple was arguing ahead of him, their teenage son sulked next to the father.

"Lasagna noodles," Arthur read aloud quietly, picking up a box of the wavy noodles under the "SALE" sign. "I could make lasagna." Nodding to himself, Arthur places the red box into his cart. He looked back up at the family who had stopped where they were to look at something. The wife's blonde curls reached her shoulders. Shoulders that looked strangely broad upon a second look. Sure enough, despite the small waist and tampered hips the "wife" had, "her" shoulders were broader than those of the brunette man next "her".

"Th-That's probably not that weird. I just haven't been out much." Arthur tried to reassure himself. The blonde reached over and pushed the curly haired brunette who was laughing at something Arthur couldn't imagine. The small, bright, orange shopping basket on his arm swung out as he swayed and bumped into the shorter brunette.

"Oi! Bastard! Watch what you're doing!" The short brunette turned, his face blushing red. A stray curl bounced in front of his face as he whipped his head towards the man who bumped into him.

_I think I may have misjudged who's in front of me._

" _Aye, Lo siento_ Lovi!" Small curls bounced around the brunette's tanned face as he turned towards the fuming, shorter man. Arthur stopped his casual stroll down the aisle. There was something familiar about the deep, Spanish accented voice.

Promptly, Arthur turned his cart around and went to a different aisle. On the other side of the store.

Around twenty minutes later, Arthur found himself looking for some tomato sauce for the lasagna. He ended up standing face to face with the curly haired Spanish man.

"Lov-Oh  _Hola_. You're not-Ar…Arthur?"

The blonde who had been with the Spaniard and his shorter friend came up from another aisle.

"Antonio, Lovino's waiting for you by the-Arthur?"

The Brit bit his tongue in surprise.

"You know Arthur too, Francis?" Antonio Fernández Carriedo asked, turning to the blonde. Francis kept his eyes pinned on Arthur.

"Um yes. We live in the same apartment complex. Tony, how do  _you_ know Arthur?" Francis finally turned his blue gaze to his friend.

"Oh…uh…um Where did you say Lovi was?"

"By the front door."

The Spaniard was gone before Francis had enough time to realize he didn't get an answer to his question.

"I um, I should be going." Arthur mumbled, turning his cart away. He could hear quick footsteps following after him.

"Come now Arthur, where's the hurry?"

Francis caught up with the Brit and leaned over a bit to look at Arthur's down cast face.

" _Bonjour?"_

Arthur sighed, lifting his head to look at the Frenchman walking next to him.

"Hello Francis."

The Frenchman smiled at Arthur upon being addressed. Arthur was taken aback by his appearance. He was dressed as casually as Arthur was used to him being but he couldn't say the last time-if ever that-he saw Francis's blonde curls down to frame his face.

"Do you frequent this supermarket?" Francis asked, for whatever reason, making casual conversation with the Brit. Arthur wasn't quite sure he knew how to react to this recent development.

"I suppose you could say that, yes. However, what does it matter if I frequent this specific supermarket or not Francis?" Arthur replied defensively.

"It doesn't really matter Arthur, I was just curious. Is that how you know Tony?"

"Pardon?"

"Well there's a bakery over here that Tony and his cute little Italian boyfriend favor so they tend to visit this supermarket."

"Um…no. I wasn't aware Antonio visited this supermarket."

"How do you know him then?" Francis probed. He was good friends with the Spaniard and he was finally getting closer to Arthur. It couldn't hurt to be curious as to how the two knew each other, could it?

"Well Francis, how do you know Antonio?" Arthur fired back, angrily. Two could play the ridiculous twenty-questions game Francis had prompted. Francis gave a laid back smile and gave no sign of being bothered by Arthur's harsh tone.

"He was the first friend I made in the States."

Arthur licked his lips.

"Oh."

"So," Francis prompted. "How do you know each other?"

"We dated. For a short time. In college." Arthur struggled to get the words out but he knew Francis would never drop the subject.

Francis watched Arthur with wide blue eyes. He honestly couldn't believe his ears. He was astonished by the fact that his talkative Spanish friend had never mentioned dating someone who would even vaguely remind Francis of the blonde Brit he had been admiring for the past four years. He also couldn't believe his luck. Francis knew there was no guarantee that Arthur would be anything but a straight arrow. If Arthur had dated Antonio, that banished a few of his bigger worries. Worries he had originally hoped would stay buried until they had a firmer grasp on what their relationship was evolving into.

Francis allowed his imagination to get ahead of him, more so than he usually did, and didn't notice Arthur making his way away from him. In fact, Arthur was halfway through the check-out before Francis pulled himself from his daydream. The Frenchman quickly back tracked a few feet to retrieve his cart from where he left it in order to chase after Arthur the first time. By the time he was checked out, Arthur was out of the store.

 _Oh well_ , he mused,  _it's not as if that was the last time I'll see_ le petit lapin. Francis smiled to himself, reassured, and made his way out of the supermarket. A silver and black car waited for him a few rows back. Now, it seemed insane for Francis to have such an elaborate car but at the time of the Bugatti's purchase it was much less ridiculous. He could sell it now, he supposed, for something more reasonable but he had grown attached.

Francis quickly put away his groceries, humming to himself some American song he had heard playing overhead while shopping and climbed into the vehicle. With ease, he made his way to the road and headed home.

It wasn't far from the supermarket that Francis slowed down. A foot or two ahead of him, a blonde man walked with two or three grocery bags supported on each arm. Francis pulled up alongside the man and rolled down his window.

"What are you doing,  _mon ami_?"

Arthur obviously had been lost in thought when Francis was pulled up along him and stumbled in surprise.

"I-Francis what are you doing here?" The Frenchman smirked when he saw the blush on the Brit's pale face.

"I'm offering you a ride home."

The two watched each other through the open window for a few moments before Arthur turned away.

"I don't need a ride."

Francis scowled. "Don't be ridiculous Arthur. It's one thing to walk the twelve blocks home empty handed or with one bag but not six." Arthur looked down at his hands as if he had forgotten the burden he carried with him.

"They're not that heavy." He finally decided was a rational reason. Francis rolled his eyes at the defiance and leaned across the seat divider to open the door for Arthur.

"You can put your things in the back seat."

A few minutes later, the two were making their way home in Francis's car.

"I-I" Arthur sighed. "Thank you Francis." The Frenchman hummed back a reply. Almost the entire rest of the ride was spent in silence. It wasn't until Francis was almost parked that Arthur said something else.

" _Bugger_!" Arthur cursed suddenly. "I forgot to buy the tomato sauce."

Francis momentarily wondered why the Englishman didn't just make some himself before horror stories he had heard the previous night resurfaced. It was probably best that Arthur used as many pre-made things as possible.

"I'm sorry Arthur, should I turn around so that you-"

"No." Arthur instantly interrupted Francis. "That's ridiculous. I'll figure something out. Thank you for the ride."

Francis tried to offer his assistance but Arthur denied it rather quickly and was off to his own apartment in a few minutes. Francis bit his lip in a moment of controlled frustration. He learned one thing about the elusive blonde and suddenly it seemed like Arthur wanted even less to do with him than before they had dinner. He was determined to change that.

* * *

About six-thirty that evening, just as Arthur was trying to figure out what he would eat until he could pick up some sauce or ingredients to make sauce for his lasagna, a knock came at his door.

"Who could possibly be coming by now?" Arthur muttered to himself. Alice watched her human's building anger mount even higher from a safe distance away, on the living room couch. He had been strangely grumpy and flustered ever since he returned home from where ever it was human's wasted time in the morning.

No one was at the door. Growing even more frustrated with each passing moment, Arthur was about to slam the door when something caught his eye. A small plastic ware container sat on his welcome mat. It's clear sides were fogging up from the heat of the contents. A crisp, white piece of paper was folded and situated on top of the pale blue cover with his name proclaimed across the front in looping script.

Curious, he picked up the paper and read the message inside.

Arthur,

Work keeps me busy tonight I'm afraid so I am unable to dine with you. Since you did not get tomato sauce for whatever dish you had been planning to butcher tonight, please enjoy this small dish (just eat it, do not ask what is in it) and join me tomorrow night for dinner. How does six o'clock sound?

Love,  
Francis.

Arthur reread the letter two or three more times, ignoring this small delay each time on the word "love" before he looked back at the plastic container in front of him. He had half a mind to just leave it out there to spite Francis. However, he couldn't deny that he enjoyed the Frenchman's cooking quite a bit. For French food it was alright. And not burnt.

Arthur shut, and locked, his apartment door a moment later. He turned to see Alice watching him curiously. He looked between the feline and container in his hands.

"Don't…Don't tell anyone." He instructed and disappeared into the kitchen.

Alice flicked her tail in the air a few times before rolling onto her back to stretch. What an interesting development for her human.


	9. Chapter 9

Like every week day morning, Arthur's alarm clock woke him up at 6:15. The first coherent thought he had took a downward spiral immediately. Arthur took a decidedly cooler shower than normal but the thought stayed with him and he left the spray feeling unnaturally warm and looking flushed. That morning, his tie felt strangely tight around his neck, his suit stiff and constricting.

It wasn't until Arthur made it to his kitchen to put the kettle on that he realized why everything was so wrong. The Tupperware that had housed last night's dinner sat in his sink, cleaned and dried, waiting to be returned to its owner. Francis. Francis who had made Arthur dinner yesterday. Francis who had invited Arthur to dinner tonight. Francis who signed his bloody invitation with  _love_.

Arthur let out an exasperated growl as he opened his apartment door to retrieve the morning paper. Four years he had been comfortable with his life and with his routine. Then Francis just had to come in and screw everything up. He didn't have to deal with feelings or dinner dates or not knowing what was really going on, if this was just what a friendship is now or if something more was going on, before Francis. This is why he had been single for almost seven years. He didn't  _understand_  this whole dating thing.

"Maybe I shouldn't go to dinner." Arthur muttered, pulling his apartment door shut behind him. He could barely enjoy his early morning routine. "I'm rushing into this-whatever this is-way too fast. I need to….take a step back and think about this." He rationalized. Outside, a light breeze greeted him. Arthur took a deep breath and let a small smile relax him. That's definitely all he needs to do. Take a step back and get control of his schedule again. He started his walk to the parking lot and took note that the morning air was considerably cooler than it had been the past few weeks. He might need to start bringing an extra jacket with him.

Arthur slowed down his pace when he saw someone on the balcony up ahead. Unlike normal, Francis wasn't already waiting for him, leaning against his balcony's railing. This morning, Francis was just leaving his flat. His baggy t-shirt was falling off one shoulder until he yawned and stretched his arms high over his head. The shirt rose with his hands and revealed a strip of skin Arthur was pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to see if Francis's pants hadn't been slung so low on his hips. Quickly, Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and counted to thirty. Seeing that much of Francis, even from far away, made it considerably hard for Arthur to remind himself that not going to dinner was a good idea.

Francis pulled his cigarette from his mouth with a slow smile when he saw Arthur coming his way.

" _Bonjour,_ Arthur."

Arthur grunted in response and kept walking. It made sense Francis told himself. Arthur would want some part of his everyday routine to go normally.

"So how about to day,  _mon amour,_ will you marry me?"

Arthur sighed heavily, his shoulders heaving with the effort and turned around.

"Not today, not ever Francis." Arthur responded, glaring up at the blonde Frenchman. Francis laughed.

"I'll at least see you at six o'clock for dinner though, right?" Arthur opened and closed his mouth a few times before promptly turning on his heel and leaving. Francis smiled, snuffing out his cigarette in the ash tray on his knee-high table in the corner.

"Tonight's a good night for  _bouillabaisse."_ _Francis decided._

* * *

Arthur sighed as another loud crash of thunder shook the windows of his office building. This explained the morning coolness. It had been raining since about an hour after Arthur arrived to work. Not raining, it was  _storming_. Howling wind, bone rattling thunder and sky splitting lightning: the whole kit and caboodle. Not only that, the power had been coming on and off so much it was almost impossible to get any work done, not that there was much work to be done since most people called in to cancel appointments. Understandably, no one really wanted to go out in this weather.

Arthur ran his hands through his hair and sighed. His computer was just now restarting from the last loss of power they had experienced. It wasn't yet two o'clock when Eduard, another auditor in the building, stuck his head into Arthur's office.

"Gotten any work done?" Eduard asked, sending Arthur a quick smile. Arthur scoffed.

"With this ridiculous weather? How could-" Arthur was cut off as another crash of thunder simultaneously sounded with the lights turning off. Arthur sighed and fell back into his chair. Eduard laughed, turning to leave Arthur's office.

"Maybe they'll let us go home. We're obviously not getting anything done."

"I highly doubt it." Arthur muttered, crossing his arms and waiting for the electricity to come back on.

Half an hour later, Arthur's boss popped his head into Arthur's office as well. The electricity had yet to come back on.

"Well Mr. Kirkland, it seems we'll be down until the storm stops, and even then it'll take a while to get everything back together so go ahead and go on home." Quickly, the short little man left again. He never did like Arthur much. Arthur looked over at his dark computer screen and sighed. With such an unproductive day, he had plenty of time to think about things he shouldn't have been thinking about. And now, lucky him, he'd get to go home early and have more time to think about the highly inappropriate things that had been haunting him all day.

Not bothering to waste time, because really there was no avoiding what would happen, Arthur packed up his things and headed to the stairs-the elevator obviously being unavailable currently. He reached the door leading outside fairly quickly and then it hit him, about the same time the freezing rain did. He didn't have an umbrella. Another frustrated sigh made its way past Arthur's lips before he could fight it off. Today was definitely not his day.

Arthur's Nissan Micra was a welcome shelter from the rain but in the short time it took for Arthur to shut the door, buckle himself in, and start the car he could feel the rain that had already soaked him begin to seep into his seat. He glanced at the heater with a bit of a wistful look and pulled out of the parking lot. Last winter he had broken the heater and had yet to get it fixed. He would just have to suffer through the short ride wet, cold, and uncomfortable. Being so uncomfortable should keep Arthur's mind off the thoughts that had been swirling through his head all day though, and he could at least look forward to a warm shower and relaxing when he got home.

* * *

Francis was walking back to his apartment, humming to himself. The bottoms of his jeans were getting a bit wet and he was cold but his large umbrella warded off most of the rain coming down on him. He was just coming back from his shopping trip to get ingredients for dinner. Rainy days actually made Francis's spirits rise a little. There was just something about the darkness and steady downfall that calmed him and made him look at things a little different. Perhaps he would start a new painting before preparing dinner. He did have almost three hours before Arthur should be home from work and to his apartment.

Francis was almost to his building when he heard someone coming up behind him. They were shuffling along really and breathing a bit heavily. Curious, Francis turned around to see who it was and almost dropped his groceries. Arthur was coming up the path. His shoulders were hunched and his briefcase was tucked under his arm so that he could cup his hands together and breathe on them for warmth. He was completely soaked from the rain and each step seemed like a bigger struggle for him than the last.

" _M_ _on Dieu!"_ Francis gasped. "Arthur!"

Arthur looked up just then and found himself standing face to face with Francis. Francis of course looked strangely dry for the weather around them but he also looked absurdly concerned. Concerned for some reason about  _him_ , Arthur realized.

"Oh um…hello, Francis." Arthur wanted to ignore Francis. Or perhaps allow his pride to be hurt by Francis's obvious concern and march away but he was too tired. He was too tired to do much but stand there and freeze. Before Arthur could register what was happening, he was standing under Francis's umbrella and being ushered towards Francis's apartment. He couldn't bring himself to argue.

When the two men made their way inside, Françoise was waiting at the door. She gave a surprised mewl at the rushed arrival and quickly hopped out of the way to avoid being splashed by the onslaught of rain water that fell from Francis's umbrella and Arthur. Carelessly, Francis tossed his umbrella away and placed his groceries on the ground, out of their way. Silently he took Arthur's briefcase from him and peeled off the Englishman's jacket. Arthur couldn't stop his teeth from chattering long enough to argue.

Everything was a rush to Arthur and nothing much made sense. One moment he was standing outside in the rainstorm of the year and the next he was in Francis's large bathroom in his baggy, practically useless now that it was soaking wet, button up shirt and boxers with a towel over his head. Francis was kneeling beside the bathtub a few feet in front of him. When Francis stood up, Arthur could hear the pound of water coming from the faucet along with the rainfall pattering down on the building outside and soon steam was filling the room. Francis looked at Arthur with a gentle expression and Arthur had to force himself to stay standing instead of tumbling forward into Francis's most likely, very warm arms.

"Can you get in the tub yourself or do you need my help?" Francis asked Arthur in a quiet, steady voice. He had stepped closer to the Englishman and picked the large towel up a bit so that he could look into Arthur's tired eyes. He could feel the Brit's warm breath fan over his collarbone shakily. Arthur kept licking his lips, looking for the strength to answer Francis and all the while, the Frenchman stood mesmerized.

Arthur wasn't totally sure what Francis was asking but he was fairly certain that whatever it was involved him stripping in front of the Frenchman so he finally coughed up the words he needed.

"I'm not a baby. I can take care of myself."

Francis actually smiled at Arthur's response. The two stood there for a few moments and Arthur almost thought Francis was going to lean in and kiss him but the Frenchman caught himself and walked around Arthur.

"Of course you can,  _mon ami_ , go ahead and warm up in the bath. I'll bring you some dry clothes to change into." Quickly, Francis left. Arthur slipped out of his remaining clothes and slid into the welcoming pool waiting for him.

Francis stood outside the bathroom door, leaning against it, when Arthur finally immersed himself in the water. Even through the thick wooden door, Francis heard the moan that escaped Arthur when the water swallowed his cold, sore body and Francis audibly swallowed. Francis had been so focused on making sure Arthur was okay, getting him into the bathroom and getting him out of his soaked clothes, he hadn't taken the time to realize what kind of affect it might have on him.

Francis closed his eyes but instead of darkness, he saw Arthur's eyes. Those large olive green pools staring up at him from beneath blonde bangs and long eyelashes. The golden flecks and almost-blue rims around his pupils were so vibrant in his mind; Francis itched to paint them onto a canvas.

 _Towel,_ Francis reminded himself finally.  _Arthur needs another towel and dry clothes._

Arthur couldn't believe how nice the bath felt. It was so warm and welcoming; he could drown forever in the smooth embrace. Of course, that would mean hours later Francis would find his naked body floating in his bathtub so Arthur forced himself to stay conscious. He just closed his eyes is all.

* * *

An hour later it was still raining when Arthur found himself under thick blankets in a  _very_  comfortable bed. Françoise woke from her light nap when she heard the rustle of sheets as Arthur woke up and quickly hopped off the bed to inform her human that his guest was awake. Arthur watched the white cat leave the room and smiled softly to himself. She was an interesting creature.

" _White_  cat?" Arthur suddenly hissed, sitting up so quickly, he felt dizzy. He didn't have a white cat. He wasn't  _home_. He was at Francis's. And the last place he had been was the bath. Which meant one of two things, and based on the feeling of cloth around him, despite the blankets pooling around his waist when he sat up, Francis had dressed him. Arthur fell back against the pillows and covered his face.

 _Lovely,_ he thought sarcastically.  _That's exactly what I wanted to happen tonight. Really._

A light knock sounded on the door frame a minute later. Arthur moved one hand away from his face and saw Francis standing in the door way with the light from the hall outlining him in a warm glow. Francis gave Arthur a small smile when he saw that the Englishman was awake and took a few steps into the room.

"How are you feeling?" Francis asked quietly. He seemed genuinely concerned.

_Mortified._

"I'm…fine." Arthur sighed, pushing himself into a sitting position. Francis was by his side in a split second, hovering over him before it occurred to him just how close he was.

"I'm sorry." Francis apologized, his warm breath coasting over the bare skin of Arthur's neck and sending a shiver down Arthur's back. Francis backed up a bit and sat on the edge of the bed. "You were so exhausted before I just wanted to make sure you were alright." Francis muttered. Arthur licked his lips and studied the Frenchman. For whatever reason, Francis seemed genuinely worried about him. It baffled him to say the least.

"I-I'm fine." Arthur reassured Francis. "But thank you."

Francis could feel a smile come over his features.

"For what?"

"Helping me. Bringing me in out of the rain and…" Arthur trailed off. Finally, the half-hearted smile Francis had been wearing to hide his worry was replaced by a playful smirk.

"Don't worry, I didn't look. Much."

Arthur flushed when Francis winked at him but it only prompted the Frenchman to laugh.

"You bloody frog!" Arthur yelled, picking up the pillow behind him, for lack of a better weapon, and tossing it at the Frenchman who had started to make his way to the door. The shot missed but the Frenchman left the room. Arthur sighed and fell back against the mattress. Suddenly, Francis popped his head back in.

"Though I didn't say I didn't touch."

* * *

Francis placed a bowl in front of Arthur at the kitchen table. He started to laugh at the Englishman's sour expression but it only pained his bruising jaw more and he quickly turned back around to retrieve the ice pack he had left on the counter.

"I hope I broke it." Arthur muttered, picking up the spoon in the bowl to swirl the broth inside around. Francis had provided Arthur dinner like he had originally planned only he insisted on Arthur having simple chicken broth instead of a heavy meal because Arthur very well could have gotten sick.

Francis brought a second bowl to the table and sat down to the right of Arthur. Despite the fact that he had to hold an ice pack to his face while he ate the simple broth, Francis was smiling.

"I was only joking."

"I'm not." Arthur replied sourly, taking a bit of his soup. Arthur's stomach growled.

The noise surprised both of the men and for a moment they just sat at the table, looking at the surprised expression mirrored on each other's faces. Finally Francis huffed a light, airy laugh and stood up from the table once more. Arthur only blushed and ate more of his soup.

A few minutes later Francis returned and laid a plate on the table between them. A few slices of bread had been cut and lightly buttered.

"Th-Thank you." Arthur said. He wouldn't meet his host's eyes. Francis sighed and sat back down to finish his dinner.

Their meal was quite but the silence was surprisingly comfortable. The only real noise was the sound of rain on the walls and windows of the apartment. They were almost done eating in fact, before another particularly loud crash of thunder came from outside.

Arthur dropped his spoon back into the bowl and stood up so fast his chair toppled over.

"Arthur? Are you alright?" Francis got to his feet as well but the Brit was to the door already. "Arthur what are you doing? You can't go out there in this weather."

"Alice has been alone all day Francis, she's terrified of thunderstorms!"

"Arthur wait!" Francis yelled, reaching out to grab the Englishman's wrist. "I'm sorry...Alice is scared but you can't go out like this."

"Thank you Francis. For helping me." Arthur said sincerely, stopping the Frenchman before he said anything else. Arthur grasped Francis's face in his hands, hands that were still cold, and much to the surprise of the Frenchman gave Francis a small kiss on the tip of his nose. "I have to go."

And then he was gone, flying out the door.


	10. Chapter 10

Arthur raced home berating himself for forgetting his flatmate the whole way there. It was one thing for him to be gone all day to work when he couldn't help it-and didn't know that it was going to rain-but date or no date with Francis he should have rushed home to the poor girl. Arthur couldn't deny the facts as much as he hated it. He hadn't thought about Alice all day. His thoughts were focused purely on the blonde man he had just punched in the face not twenty minutes previous.

When Arthur opened the door to his flat, it was quite. All the lights in the place were off, which was expected when he hadn't been home all day, but with the storm clouds congregating in the sky, there was a depressing darkness coating everything in the flat. Alice was nowhere in sight. Arthur listed off the places she might be to himself. It had been so long since he hadn't been with Alice through a storm, years since she had to hide by herself while he was off somewhere else. In the end, Arthur decided he'd try looking under the couch first.

That search proved to be unfruitful however. So Arthur continued his search in the hall closet. The closet was one of Alice's favorite places to nap since she realized the door didn't latch and she could get into the room all by herself. It was where Arthur stored his extra blankets in the summer so every winter when he needed them again, they were covered in cat hair but he couldn't bring himself to fix the door knob and prevent Alice from going in there. The closet, however, was also empty of any feline presence. So Arthur turned to his right, towards his bedroom. Arthur pushed open the slightly ajar door and took in the state of the room. The two pillows normally on his bed had been kicked or thrown off somehow and the duvet was in complete disarray, only tucked under the mattress by one corner.

Arthur crouched down to look under the bed. Two wide, glowing green eyes looked back at him.

"I'm sorry, old girl." Arthur apologized quietly. "I didn't mean to leave you alone."

Alice attempted to hiss at Arthur but the sound was quiet and the angry tone it normally had fell flat. Arthur worried his bottom lip as he lowered himself to lay flat on the ground. With one hand, he gently drummed out a steady, rhythmic pattern on the carpeted floor. Eventually, Alice started to inch her way towards her human. Every crash of thunder had her frozen in place, tense, for a few minutes but she eventually made it out from under the bed.

Arthur sat up, letting out the worried breath he had been holding in a thankful gasp, and slowly pulled the scared feline into his arms. All the while he continued to whisper soothing words and quiet apologizes. Once Alice was settled in his arms, Arthur slowly rose onto his feet. He waited until she was calm once more before he started moving out of the bedroom. Knowing Alice, she'd been under the bed since the storm started so he'd like to try and get some food into her.

When Arthur got to his center room, he stopped dead in his tracks. His flat door was wide open.

* * *

Francis stood in his door way, watching his apartment door slowly begin to swing shut. He could feel Françoise as she watched him, waiting for a reaction from her human.

"Françoise, did that…did Arthur-" Francis was quite sure how to word his question. Honestly he wasn't quite sure what he was asking. Finally Francis turned to look at the white cat watching him. He was fairly certain she was laughing at him.

Francis didn't move for a while. He just stood in his door way watching the empty hallway through the partially open door. It wasn't until something bumped his foot that he reacted at all. Françoise had pushed a shoe towards him.

"What are you doing?" Francis asked curiously, bending down to pick up the shoe. Francis looked it over a few time, turning the shoe in his hands before he could feel laughter bubbling out of him.

"These aren't my shoes, Françoise. Arthur left his shoes here." Françoise didn't look nearly as entertained by the discovery as Francis was. A few minutes later, Francis jumped to his feet.

" _Mon Dieu!_  That idiot left without his shoes! It's still storming out there; he's going to get sick!" Francis paused in his angry rant long enough to see Françoise standing in the open door way. He sighed, pushing some of his hair away from his face. "That's what you were trying to tell me? Go after him? And say what? 'Oh hello Arthur I know you need to rush home to your poor, frightened Alice but I irrationally care about you and I would like you to put your shoes on before you get sick'?"

Françoise was fairly proud of herself when the last thing she saw was the back of her human going down the hall with a pair of shoes in his hands before the door shut.

Francis couldn't believe he had let his cat talk-er maybe not exactly talk-him into going out in the rain after the stupid, frustratingly-adorable, barefoot Englishman he had let into his apartment.

When Francis reached Arthur's apartment, the door was open. He stopped at the door way and looked into the dark apartment.  _Why is the door open?_

Francis was debating with himself on if it would be a good idea to go inside uninvited or if he should wait when he heard footsteps from inside the apartment. A moment later, Arthur was standing in front of him.

"Francis? What are you doing here?" Though surprised, Arthur was talking very quietly.

"You forgot your shoes." Francis replied automatically, holding the said shoes out to the Brit. Arthur looked at the footwear, surprised.

"I forgot my…" Arthur looked down at his bare feet and back up at the shoes. "I guess I did. But Francis, so did you."

Francis looked at Arthur like he didn't understand what the Englishman was saying. Which in all honesty, he didn't understand what Arthur was saying.

"I forgot my shoes?"

Arthur pointed towards Francis's feet. Sure enough, they were bare. When Francis looked back up at Arthur, he was smiling though the happy expression disappeared as soon as he realized Francis was watching him. Arthur straightened.

"Well I can't very well let you go back out in the rain like that so come in and help me." Arthur turned on his heel and headed towards what Francis assumed was his kitchen. Francis shut the door behind him, leaving Arthur's shoes near it, before he followed after Arthur. In the kitchen Arthur was standing in front of his counter.

He nodded towards the cupboard above his head when Francis came towards him. "Will you get down a can of cat food?" Francis looked at Arthur curiously at the request. It was then that he saw the cat in Arthur's arms. Wide green eyes watched him, unblinking. Francis couldn't imagine how he missed the cat when he first saw Arthur.

Francis opened the cupboard and pulled out a can of the wet cat food. Then, following the occasional instruction from Arthur, he prepared the food for the cat. All the while, Arthur stood next to him rubbing soothing circles on the top of his cat's head and running a finger up and down the bridge of the Scottish fold's nose. Sometimes Francis could catch little snippets of the comforting words Arthur was whispering down to the frightened animal in his arms. Every time a crash of thunder could be heard, Francis could see the frightened thing tense up. When the lightning lit up the room around them from the window, the cat seemed to shrink itself and hide further into Arthur's arms.

Francis placed the food dish next to the water and took a step back, waiting for Arthur's next instruction. Slowly, Arthur lowered the cat onto the floor near the food dish and stepped back to stand next to Francis. Silently, he grabbed the Frenchman's arm and the two lowered themselves to sit on the ground far enough to give the animal some room to eat but close enough that she could reach Arthur when the thunder came again.

"So that…that is Alice?" Francis tried to keep his voice as low as Arthur's had been. Arthur nodded, watching Alice eat for a few more minutes before he looked at Francis.

"Thank you for helping with that."

"That's three-no four-times in one night you've thanked me Arthur." Francis whispered back as a reply. Arthur scowled.

"That many? Obviously I've spent too much time with you."

Francis tried not to laugh for fear of frightening Alice more.

"Just admit that you're starting to like me and get it over with already,  _mon ami_." Francis replied, leaning over and placing a feather-light kiss on Arthur's cheek.

"Wh-what was that for?" Arthur's voice broke a little as he reached up to touch his cheek. Despite the dark surroundings, Francis could make out a light blush dying Arthur's face.

" _My_  thank you for the one you gave me earlier."

"I didn't-but I never-" Arthur stumbled over his words but repeated thunder crashes cut him off before he could form a coherent sentence. Alice scrambled into Arthur's arms, latching her claws past his shirt sleeves into his skin so fiercely he actually winced. After all these years he had gotten used to her clawing him from fright during storms so much that he rarely even noticed it. The pain surprised him but he bit back his yelp in exchange for whispering more soothing words to his flatmate.

Arthur began to pet Alice once more, using the same soothing motions from before but she refused to relax. Arthur began to chew on his lip once more. There was one more thing he usually did to calm Alice down and eventually lull her to sleep during a storm but he wasn't too fond of having Francis around when he did it. However when he heard the quiet, pitiful "meow" come from Alice after a particularly loud bout of thunder, he sucked up his concerns and began to sing.


	11. Chapter 11

Arthur woke up from the best sleep he could ever recall having without the annoying blare of his alarm clock. He couldn't quite put a finger on why, but he was in all honesty grateful for it. After such a great, restful night, it was almost…heavenly to be able to wake himself up instead of feeling as if he had been cheated out of much longer, restful night. Not that he would ever admit to disliking the strict, uniform schedule he had assigned himself. Arthur turned his head to look at his clock and see if he could allow himself a few more minutes to lounge in bed after waking up before the alarm. The truth hit him in the face with the same harshness the Revolutionary War hit England.

Arthur wasn't in his bedroom.

He wasn't even in a bed.

From the looks of things, he was on the floor of his kitchen. But he knew for a fact that his floor wasn't this comfortable to lie on. Which meant one thing. One thing Arthur had probably realized almost as soon as he woke up but something he didn't want to acknowledge. Turning his head once more, Arthur was greeted with the sight of Francis's still-sleeping face. Small rays of sun were coming in through the window and playing tricks on the curls flying around the Frenchman's head making it harder for Arthur to deny how much he wanted to run his fingers through the golden strands. The light stubble Francis always had along his jaw was a bit darker, a bit thicker, than usual; and Arthur was suddenly overwrought with the desire to know what it would feel like to have the prickly hair rub against his face in the midst of a kiss.

The thought had Arthur's face burning red but there was no where he could hide-and nothing he could truly hide from.

Upon further examination of the situation, Arthur took note that most likely he had slept with his head on Francis's chest. One of the Frenchman's arms was wrapped almost possessively around his waist and their legs were intertwined in some complicated knot he couldn't replicate if he wanted to.

The only thing left for Arthur to question was  _why_. And then he noticed Alice. Still curled up, peacefully asleep the feline was only a few feet away from them. There had been a storm last night and he had been in the kitchen comforting Alice like he had many times before. But Francis had been there too, which wasn't like normal. Because he had forgotten something silly like…his shoes. Arthur had left his shoes in Francis's flat and the Frenchman had come to return them and somehow….they ended up asleep in each other's arms on Arthur's kitchen floor.

 _And I wasn't even drunk this time._  Arthur couldn't help the sour thought from seeping through. But he knew this was different. If not only because he was fully dressed and not in any kind of pain as far as he could tell, but for some reason, he knew he could trust Francis in this situation. Somehow after four years of being acquaintances at most, and a strange four day friendship, Arthur found himself starting to trust Francis more than the "friends" he had for years in high school and college. It was actually a completely terrifying realization.

Arthur didn't get much time to dwell on the terrifying thought however because Francis woke up.

Arthur was positive there wasn't anything more powerful than being hit full force by Francis's 100-watt smile this early in the morning.

"Good morning Arthur." Francis practically purred his greeting with a confident tone that almost had Arthur convinced Francis greeted him every morning like  _this_. Strangely, Arthur wanted to be as comfortable as Francis in this situation.

"Um…good morning Francis." Arthur replied awkwardly. Still smiling, Francis moved his free arm to rest behind his head.

"So am I dreaming again or am I actually waking up with you?" Francis asked casually. Arthur scoffed.

"Do you dream of waking up on my kitchen floor often Francis? That's really quite odd." Francis laughed at Arthur's response and the deep sound even had a bit of a smile pulling across Arthur's lips.

"I dream of waking up with you in my arms every night,  _mon cher_. The locations vary however depending on my mood and what I ate right before going to bed." This time Francis winked to go along with his words. Despite his best efforts, laughter bubbled up past Arthur's lips. Francis's expression softened when he heard the sound but Arthur told himself he imagined it, just like he imagined the frantic fluttering of his heart when he saw Francis's gentle smile.

"Are you always this bad of a bloody flirt and I've missed it all these years or am I just special?" Arthur's question seemed to somber Francis because the playful smile he had previously disappeared. Slowly, Francis moved himself into a sitting position, keeping his arm around Arthur so that the Brit was forced to sit up with him.

"Honestly, I think you're just special Arthur." Francis admitted. "I flirt, I'll admit, I'm French and stereotypes are what they are for a reason, but I'm normally much better at it than I am with you."

Arthur shifted nervously in place. It was hard to put together a response when Francis was looking at him with the bluest eyes and holding him close to his warmth; his fingers curling deliciously around Arthur's waist.

"You're just-You're just putting the blame on me because you don't want to admit you can't-can't impress me." Arthur mumbled back quietly. Francis shrugged but Arthur could tell by the look the Frenchman sent him that Francis had different thoughts on the matter.

The men's conversation woke up Alice, who rolled onto her back and stretched. She stayed in that position to watch two of them. It was the first time she had met the "bloody frog" her human was always complaining about but she already liked him. Arthur must have too, even if he would deny it, because Arthur usually only tolerated hugs, of any kind, from family or those he considered to be family. Yet never once did he try to remove Francis's arm from around his waist. After a while of their back and forth, he stopped even noticing the arm. He was comfortable with Francis, Alice realized. Interesting development.

Arthur stopped mid-sentence when he felt small paws on him. Alice was attempting to climb into his lap. Smiling, he picked up the chubby feline and scratched behind her ears. Happily she nuzzled his hand. She was always more affectionate after a storm.

"Did you sleep through the rest of the storm?" Arthur asked. He remembered Alice falling asleep in his lap but soon after he must have also fallen asleep. Alice didn't make any indication of whether she slept through the storm or not, only nudging Arthur's hand so that he would continue to pet her. Arthur laughed quietly.

"Has she always been afraid of storms?" Francis asked quietly after a few minutes. He had shifted to sit more behind Arthur than next to him and his head was almost resting against Arthur's shoulder. Francis was watching Alice as she was lavished by Arthur's slim fingers. Arthur sucked in a quiet gasp when he realized how close Francis had gotten to him but didn't say anything about it, only turned his attention back to the feline in his lap once more.

"For as long as I have known her, she has been." Arthur replied, keeping the volume of his voice as low as Francis had.

"And how long is that exactly?" The Frenchman replied.

"Thirteen years."

Francis was surprised. "Thirteen years? That's quite a long time." Arthur shrugged one shoulder, nonchalantly.

"I found her during my first year of high school." Arthur paused, licking his lips. He ran one finger under Alice's chin. He wasn't sure if he should continue or not. Would Francis care how he found Alice? Probably not.

"Found?"

Arthur bit the inside of his cheek in surprise. Apparently, Francis was more interested than he thought.

"There had been a really bad storm a few days previous and though the wind and the thunder and the lightning had all but gone, the rain continued for days. It was cold and wet and miserable and I was walking home from school." Arthur told Francis, turning slightly to look at the Frenchman. When he saw, however, how closely Francis's sky-blue eyes were watching him he flushed and turned back to Alice. "I heard a sound, though I'm not sure what to call it, it was a sort of crying. I went to see what it was. In a poor excuse for a cardboard box buried under garbage was this thin, dirty, soaking wet little kitten, too young to be away from its mother, all alone and I brought it home with me." Though Arthur couldn't see, Francis smiled. "It wasn't for another few months, when there was another storm that I realized Alice was afraid of them too."

Francis wasn't sure if he misheard Arthur or not. "Too? She was afraid of them too?" A blush bloomed across Arthur's pale skin.

"Up until that point, I had-I was-storms terrified me. I hated them. When this storm came, early in the morning I begged and pleaded with my mother that I didn't have to go to school, it was terrible enough going there on a normal day and I had to walk to and from school, it would have just been horrendous. Finally, she gave in and I ran back to my room. I thought, perhaps, Alice would help me deal with the storm but when I found her she looked in a worse state than I was. I helped her get through the storm instead and I…haven't been scared since."

The three of them were quiet. Arthur petting Alice, Francis watching the two of them, and Alice enjoying the attention of her human. Finally, Francis reached over and scratched Alice's head. To Arthur's complete disbelief, and Francis's delight, Alice responded-not warmly but kindly-to the foreign hand.

"I guess she likes me." Francis commented nonchalantly, looking away from the feline to look at Arthur with a wide smile. Arthur found a smile tugging at his lips as well.

 _If_ Alice  _likes Francis…he's got to be good, right?_

"I guess so."

Because Arthur had never been good at relationships to begin with, and this casual awkward thing going on with Francis was still in its beginning stages, Arthur choose that exact moment to ruin the well…moment. He caught a glimpse of his watch when he looked away from Francis and jumped to his feet. Arthur scooped Alice up as he rose but for a split second, somehow, Francis escaped his mind. The time on the face of his watch was more important. 6:59 a.m. Almost seven o'clock. Arthur was late for work.

Using the more colorful spectrum of his vocabulary, Arthur stormed from the kitchen. He dropped Alice off on the couch and went to his bed room to find clean clothes. He'd have to skip his morning shower and breakfast but if he hurried he might be able to make it on time.

Francis still sat on the Englishman's floor, nursing his now very sore-and possibly broken-nose. Arthur's sudden departure left him totally baffled. Did he do something wrong? Perhaps it was that 'someone' Arthur had met with a few days previous. Francis smiled to himself. If Arthur was worried what his special someone might think if they knew the position the two of them had been in, perhaps Francis's feelings were even less one sided than he had feared.

Non, Francis scolded himself, the smile disappearing from his face.  _If Arthur has someone, I should apologize_.

Francis scowled, running a hand through his hair. This morning had been off to such a good start, too.

Alice by this time had made her way back into the kitchen to see why their guest was still there. She saw the Frenchman pulling himself to his feet and gingerly touching his nose a few times. He grimaced but when he saw her, he dropped the hand to his side and smiled.

" _Bonjour, petite chatte_." He greeted. The man stuck one hand into his pocket and stepped around her to leave the room.

 _Just when she thought she was beginning to understand her human's behavior, things started to change._ Alice thought with a sigh, going to see if there was still something in her food dish.

Arthur had discarded his old, rumpled clothes into a messy pile on the floor he would have been horrified with any other time. His trousers were on, but unfastened when he tripped over one of the pillows Alice had discarded yesterday in her fright. He landed facing his left-side bedside table. He kept the main charging base for his phone there. Though the handset was somewhere else at the moment, the small screen in the middle of the base was flashing a bright orange, informing Arthur that he had a voicemail. Curious, Arthur reached up and pushed the speaker button.

"You have two new messages." The automated female voice immediately told Arthur. "First, unheard message from: Monday, August 19th, 2013. 12:30 p.m.:"

"Arthur? Mattie gave me this number so I hope it's right. Both of you have really atrocious handwriting so something might've been mixed up." Alfred's voice cut through the air. Someone started talking in the background but the words were muffled. Arthur however could hear Alfred saying "Okay, okay" and "Don't worry Kiku, Arthur's almost as thick-skinned as I am. No offense taken. Promise." Finally, Alfred turned his attention back to the phone and the message he was leaving for Arthur. "Anyways, you should be getting an invite in the mail soon so you know all the details like a normal guest for this wedding but I wanted you to keep a watch on your mail in case you don't get it and we have to tell you separately." There was a long pause, and Arthur thought the message was complete but at the very last second, Alfred's rushed voice came back. "Oh also, the invite is for you and your plus one."

"Second unheard message," the robotic voice started, not allowing Arthur any time to dwell on the voicemail Alfred left, or the underlying message he had for Arthur at the end. "From: Tuesday, August 20th, 2013. 5:45 a.m."

"Mr. Kirkland? This is the number we have for you under file at the office. All your clients have already been called and informed that they will have to wait to meet with you for a while. The power is still not on at the office. Please use your day off wisely." Arthur's boss spoke in a monotone and ended the message quickly. Even through a voicemail, the man made it obvious he'd rather speak with another employee than Arthur.

"End of messages."

Arthur rolled onto his back and let out a relieved sigh. He wasn't going to be late for work. There wasn't work. This was wonderful, glorious news. Momentarily, Arthur wondered if he could simply go back into the kitchen, sit in that strange position that almost made it seem like he was in Francis's arms and not do anything for the rest of the day but he immediately banished the thought. That was ridiculous. And he wasn't even sure what part of his subconscious that idea had come from but he wondered if there was a doctor that specialized in permanently quieting such a thing.

A minute later, Arthur still hadn't moved from his floor and he heard someone in the doorway clear their throat. Arthur pushed himself up to look over his bed at Francis. The Frenchman's hair and clothing was in such disarray, Arthur was glad he didn't have a flatmate-other than Alice-who he might need to explain the situation to. He certainly wouldn't believe nothing had been going on between the two if he was the third party.

"Is um..Is everything alright?" Francis asked.

 _Wonderful job Arthur_ , Arthur scolded himself.  _Obviously Francis is well aware that suddenly storming away to lay half-naked on the floor isn't normal behavior for_ anyone _._ Arthur blinked in surprise at the sour tone he was using on himself. Since when did he care what Francis tho-? Though really, who was he kidding?

"I was late for work." Arthur explained. Once again aware that he was barely dressed with a guest in the house, Arthur wasn't too keen on the idea of getting up from the ground. At least in his current position the bed provided him some cover.

"You 'were' late for work?"

"And now I'm not." Arthur replied with a nod. He could tell by the look on Francis's face, the Frenchman wasn't following. "My boss called. I just got his message. The power is out. So I can't go into work anyways. So I'm not late."

Francis leaned against the door frame.

"What is your job?"

Arthur shifted his weight. The carpet had stopped feeling pleasant on the one elbow he had been using to support his torso early on in the conversation.

"I'm an auditor." Francis didn't say anything for a while, only studied the Englishman with an unreadable expression on his face. Finally, he took a deep breath and asked:

"Is that why you left the kitchen in such a hurry?"

Arthur nodded. "I thought I was late."

For reasons Arthur couldn't even fathom, a relieved expression crossed Francis's face. Before Arthur tried to put much thought into that relieved expression, the weight on his arm became too much and he fell back with a quiet "oomph". Francis rushed to Arthur's side. However, once he was knelt next to the Englishman, he realized Arthur was fine. Arthur took the time to study Francis's face and realized the Frenchman wasn't totally fine.

"Francis your nose…"

"Ah, it's swollen, isn't it?" Francis replied with a sad sigh. Arthur nodded, reaching up to gently touch the reddened bridge of Francis's nose. Francis winced slightly but didn't move away.

"When did that happen?"

"Your big head bashed into it." Francis smirked down at Arthur. Arthur scowled.

"It wouldn't have if you didn't stick  _your_  big nose where it didn't belong." Arthur replied without missing a beat. Francis leaned closer to the Englishman, almost so his "big nose" was brushing against Arthur's, but not quite.

"You like it there, don't you  _mon ami_?" Arthur flushed, almost scarlet at the close proximity. Once more, his thought from early in the morning, about Francis's stubble, reared its ugly head.

"Of course not. Now get off me." Arthur replied half-heartedly. It's not like Francis couldn't see his blush. "Maybe you should go to a doctor. It might be broken." Francis sat up, a little, and shook his head.

" _Non_ , I do not think it is broken. Even if it is, I know something that would heal it much faster than a doctor." Francis replied. He was smiling down at Arthur. Suspicion swirling dark in his mind, Arthur took the bait.

"What is that?"

"A kiss from you and maybe a song as well."

Arthur stiffened. Now more than anything, he wanted to roll under his bed and stay there-possibly forever. Or maybe, just this once, entertain the idea that the monsters from all those movies Alfred loved as a kid were real and his carpet could suddenly swallow him whole.

Francis had heard him sing.

Yesterday when Alice was so distraught over the storm. His singing was the only thing that could calm her down when she got really frightened.

Another human hadn't heard Arthur sing in years.

Groaning, Arthur reached up and covered his face with his hands.

"Can we, perhaps, just forget about that little singing thing that happened yesterday? Just forget it entirely?"

Francis gently pulled Arthur's hands away from his face so that the Englishman could see the confused expression he wore.

"But why would I want to forget it, Arthur? You sing beautifully."

 _I don't want to hear it Arthur_. His mother told him when he was ten and discovered he loved singing.

 _Not exactly my "thing"._ The first girl Arthur ever liked told him when he was fourteen.

 _I don't want a canary._ Was what the first guy who ever heard Arthur sing in college said.

The only human he had ever known to like his singing was Alfred. Perhaps, Matthew who never really said anything on the matter, but that was it.


	12. Chapter 12

Francis sat back on his heels to study the blonde Englishman. Arthur's olive green eyes were trained on the ceiling, avoiding Francis's inquiringly look. Every time they blinked shut, his pale eyelashes gently kissed his flushed, ever-so-lightly freckled cheeks and Francis could almost envy them. Arthur's blush continued past his cheeks to dye his slim neck. If that wasn't enchanting and distracting enough for Francis, he could glance down and watch the steady rise and fall of Arthur's chest. Faint muscle definition hinted at a time in the past when Arthur had been more athletic.

Francis practically had to sit on his own hands in order to keep them to himself.

Letting his gaze travel even farther south as Arthur was avoiding him, Francis noted the slim line of dark blonde hair trailing beneath the waistband of Arthur's dark underwear; only visible thanks to the undone button and zipper of his tan slacks.

A small black line arched over the waistband of Arthur's slacks, around his left hip bone leaving Francis to wonder what other secrets Arthur's clothing was hiding.

Finally Arthur turned his head and pinned Francis with the confused look swimming in his eyes.

"What?" Arthur's voice cracked slightly when he spoke but he ignored it. No one could really blame him when he finally got up the courage to look at Francis once more and the Frenchman was studying him with such an…intense look. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm waiting." Francis replied simply.

"For what?"

"An answer. Why would I want to forget your singing Arthur?"

Arthur closed his eyes and tried to still his erratic heartbeat. Of course Francis would be the one person who'd actually force Arthur to talk about this with him.

"I'm not a very good singer Francis, I know that. You won't hurt my feelings."

When Arthur opened his eyes again, the expression on Francis's face couldn't have been more shocked had Arthur decided to slap him.

"Why would you ever think such a thing Arthur?"

Arthur opened and closed his mouth a few times, at a loss for words. How could he explain it to Francis? How could he possibly put it into words?

"It's not like-It's not like you're the first person to hear me sing before." Arthur muttered. Francis gave him an amused look.

"I never would have guessed."

Ignoring the Frenchman's sarcasm, Arthur swallowed audibly and continued. "And more often than not the people, who hear me sing, don't really like what they hear. I've just grown accustom to knowing that the only ones who want to hear it are Alice and Alfred."

"Alfred?" Francis asked. Was there another cat hiding around in the apartment? Arthur looked away.

"Never mind. The only one who wants to hear it is Alice."

"Well now I want to hear it too, Arthur." Francis argued stubbornly. Momentarily, he wondered what kind of tone-deaf people the Englishman had been spending time with before but it no longer mattered.

"Did you know you hum when you are happy?" Francis asked after a few minutes. Arthur gave him a baffled look and Francis smiled. "When you're having a good day, you hum. I've heard it countless times as you're walking down the path. You're voice has always been enjoyable to listen to."

"Sing-Singing and humming are completely different." Arthur stuttered.

"Really? I don't think so. They produce a similar sound. The only difference I've noticed is one includes words and one doesn't."

"Yes well what do you know about singing anyways?" Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. Francis laughed.

"Not much. But enough to know you sound beautiful Arthur."

After a few minutes of Arthur refusing to respond, Francis shifted around until he was laying on the ground next to the Englishman. Francis laid on his back and imitated Arthur's exact position. Still, Arthur ignored him-or at least pretended to.

So Francis began to hum. It was the tune of the song Arthur sang yesterday. Arthur tuned to look at the Frenchman who seemed content to stare at the ceiling.

"What are you doing?"

"What were the words again? I don't remember."

"I'm not singing again Francis."

Francis pouted. "Then at least let me know the words so I can sing."

"Little child, be not afraid." Arthur whispered after a few minutes. Francis turned to him wide-eyed.

"What?"

"The words, idiot." Arthur shot back with a scowl. "The song starts 'Little child, be not afraid. The rain pounds harsh against the glass, like an unwanted stranger. There is no danger, I am here tonight.' "

Smiling, Francis repeated the lyrics back.

"Little child, be not afraid. Though thunder explodes and lightning flash illuminates your tear-stained face, I am here tonight."

When the next line came, the chorus, Francis sang.

"And someday you'll know, that nature is so this same rain that draws you near me falls on rivers and land, and forests and sand; makes the beautiful world that you'll see, in the morning."

Arthur managed not to laugh, though he did smile a little too much.

"What was that?"

"Hm? Oh. I was singing." Francis replied with a nonchalant laugh. "I'm not exactly what you would call 'good' am I?"

"Oh no-that's not-you were fine Francis I just-"

"That is what someone who isn't a very good singer sounds like,  _mon ami_. Not you. Now," Francis sent Arthur a mischievous smile. "You've heard me sing, so we're even. How about we finish the song together?"

"Git." Arthur muttered but to Francis's overwhelming delight, he gave in and sang-with Francis-the rest of the song.

When the two of them finished with their song, Francis reached his arms up to stretch. When he lowered his arms once more Arthur was watching him with a faraway look in his eyes and a half smile dancing on his lips. Francis smiled back.

"I could kiss you right now."

A wide range of emotions flickered across Arthur's face in a matter of seconds as he took in Francis's words. Francis wanted to take back what he had said, or at least apologize for saying that when he knew it was so out of line in Arthur's mind but before he could Arthur pushed himself to his feet. Wordlessly, the Brit held out his hand and helped Francis to his feet.

"Arthur wait, I-" Francis started, though he wasn't quite sure how to apologize for what he said, but Arthur cut him off.

"It's alright Francis. I know you were just joking." Arthur said, shaking his head. "Anyways, now that I'm not going to be late for work, I'd like to take a shower." There was a pause, a possibly longer than necessary pause, as Arthur tried to find his next words. Francis held his tongue. "You can stay, if you want, but I'm going to take a shower."

Arthur left the room before Francis could do more than smile brightly at him and nod.

* * *

Françoise, to say the least, was surprised when her human came barreling in through the door of their apartment. They had been together long enough for her to know his schedule, to know his routine. Whether it was his normal routine or the one that occurred after Francis spent the night away from home, which always happened for only one of two reasons, Françoise knew it by heart. Rushing in with a flushed face and breathless was not part of either routine.

On the nights when Francis went out with his friends, he came back the next day late in the evening, once his hangover was completely gone. He walked slowly and talked quietly then, like he was still nursing a small headache and immediately went to the kitchen to make crepes. He always gave Françoise a few bites.

On the nights when Francis went out with someone who wasn't his close friend, he came back earlier: usually around his usual lunch time. He moved gracefully then. He walked different; not always slower but smoother than normal, like he was dancing. He talked quietly then too but not like he was avoiding hurting his head. It was a quiet voice one would use to comfort or calm someone. He would greet Françoise, spend anywhere from five to thirty minutes petting her long white coat and whispering an assortment of compliments in French. He usually painted something after that, other times he would simply go out to the balcony and watch the outside world for a while. He always made crepes though. Those crepes were the best ones. Françoise knew. Francis always let her have a few bites.

These past few years, Francis had stopped having nights out with people who weren't Gilbert and Antonio; humans Françoise had grown to love almost as much as Francis as long as they didn't stay long. He had fewer nights with Gilbert and Antonio too. When Francis left to chase after Arthur, with Françoise's prompting of course, she expected her human back around midday. She expected happy, calm, graceful, loving Francis. She looked forward to crepes for dinner. She expected to hear French for the next few hours, which wasn't an uncommon thing; but his French always sounded different after nights away. It was a nice different.

"Late."

It was all Francis said as he bustled past his confused feline to his bedroom. Moments later he reemerged in different clothing. His hair was controlled once more and pulled away from his face with a black ribbon to match the black slacks and vest he wore. He had to work.

Before Francis could leave, Françoise managed to get his attention for just a few fleeting minutes. She wanted to know what happened. He always called work before on his nights away from home. Why was Arthur different?

"I do not know what will happen,  _ma fille douce_." Francis whispered softly, crouching to scratch Françoise behind the ear a few times. "I left the decision up to Arthur."

With that, Françoise was left to watch her human leave once more, the door swinging shut slowly behind him. Why did humans have to make each other's lives so difficult?

* * *

When Arthur got out of his shower, his apartment was empty of any guest, French or otherwise. It was simply him and Alice. He wasn't surprised, only disappointed. Though it was a feeling he would deny having on the off chance anyone was to ask.

Arthur went about his usual morning routine. He got dressed, he put the kettle on, and he got the paper. He finished with his tea-making, made toast, and ate. He cleaned up and sat at the couch. Without work to rush off to, Arthur read the paper then, right after breakfast. It was different not having to worry about being late for work on a normal Tuesday morning. It was nice.

 _It would've been nicer if you had managed to not screw up with Francis_.

Arthur wasn't sure why he let the voice in the back of his mind shout abuse at him. Perhaps he thought it was right or he at least agreed with it. Perhaps he would rather listen to a verbally abusive imaginary voice in the back of his mind than admit he missed having people in his flat; that after only a few days he missed the company of other people. Whatever the cause, Arthur let the voice get bad. It eventually became a constant mantra, buzzing in his ear like a fly.

Arthur put on music to try and drown out the voice but after one song he had to turn it off. The words sounded like they were sung in a foreign language and the instrumental sounded scratchy and wrong, so wrong in fact it made Arthur's skin crawl. Arthur then tried to read his book but after five, ten, fifteen times reading the same passage; Arthur had to admit he just couldn't focus on the words.

Television proved to be just as terrible, if not worse. The noise was like the music, intelligible and it made his skin-crawl. For the short bouts of time Arthur could make out the words being spoken, he tried to make sense of the plot of the show playing, only to get lost as the noise developed back into a growl.

When this all proved to be too much, Arthur stood up and marched himself to the door. He needed air; fresh air, outside air. It was the only way he was going to be able to clear his mind of everything fogging it in that moment.

A piece of paper was draped over Arthur's shoes. It didn't exactly prohibit Arthur from putting the footwear on, it was a thin flimsy thing he could easy push away or rip to get out of his way, but he didn't do either. He picked the paper up instead, wondering why and how the paper had managed to land so directly on top of his shoes.

When he saw the handwriting on the other side of the paper, Arthur knew immediately.

The letter started with just his name. It went on to talk about how nothing had been exactly "normal" in the four-year-long relationship between Arthur and the author of the note. The author apologized for approaching the situation in all the wrong ways.

"It's time for a change," Arthur read aloud to Alice, who looked on with an uncharacteristic look of curiosity on her furry face. "allow me to make up for my screw up this morning, as well as openly display to you Arthur, my intentions."

The name of a restaurant, an address, and a time were written beneath the lines Arthur read aloud.

"Will you do me the greatest favor in allowing me the pleasure of seeing you face again tonight, as my date?"

The bottom of the paper read only "Francis"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Arthur sang was Lullabye for a Stormy Night by Vienna Tang


	13. Chapter 13

His shoes forgotten, Arthur backtracked to his couch where he let himself collapse against the cushions. The letter from Francis was in his hands.

Alice followed after her human, and after a few tries, managed to get onto the coffee table in order to sit at eye level with the blonde. Arthur didn't notice her at first, he was rereading the letter from the silly Frenchman, but Alice could be patient. Something had obviously changed when Francis left Arthur his letter, she just wasn't sure what. Humans had always been a puzzling thing to her.

"I haven't been on an actual date since college." Arthur finally muttered. Alice responded with a quiet hiss. College was a human word she had quickly learned the meaning of and she didn't like it one bit. Arthur's time in college was miserable for both of them. Arthur wasted his time with loud, rude, terrible smelling humans who many times treated him worse than the people he had lived with before college, his "family". Alice had to deal with long bouts of time alone and when Arthur was home, he was either asleep, studying, or with the foul people he had become "friends" with. Perhaps she had welcomed the Frenchman in too quickly. Arthur looked over at Alice finally and tried to give her a small smile.

"I'm sure Francis will be a much better date than the blokes from college, Alice."

The feline wasn't reassured.

Arthur sighed and forced himself to sit up. He laid the letter on the table and Alice promptly batted it to the floor. A small leap later she had situated herself onto Arthur's lap. Arthur gave her a bemused look but didn't protest, simply picked the paper up and placed it on the table once more.

"What should I do about this?" Arthur murmured softly, scratching the top of Alice's head. "I…I do like Francis but he also happens to drive me crazy."

Arthur grew silent for a few minutes, lost in his thoughts. Francis said in the letter that he had approached things in the wrong way, that he wanted to make clear his intentions. Exactly how long had Francis been…wanting to ask him on a date?

* * *

Matthew woke up with a sore back and only able to feel three of his four limbs. After a few seconds of observation, he discovered that the seeming lack of his left arm was thanks to a still-snoring albino lying in the bed next to him. A ghost of a smile fluttered across Matthew's face as he watched the silvery-haired man. Sleep was the only time Gilbert was still. Very slowly, Matthew attempted to slide his arm out from underneath Gilbert. He didn't want to wake him up, very rarely did Matthew get a few calm minutes like this with his partner, but his arm was beginning to hurt.

A few swallowed curses and a quiet whimper from Gilbert later, Matthew was half-way sitting up, leaning against the bed's headboard and Gilbert's head was lying against his bare abdomen. Gilbert's dark blue-nearly black-sheets felt cool against Matthew's naked body and in comparison to the warmth radiating off the German's (or Prussian's if you asked Gilbert) body.

A small sliver of light that had made its way through the heavy drapes, alerting Matthew that it was morning. How late into the morning however, Matthew wasn't sure. Hopefully it wasn't too late. He was fairly certain Gilbert had mentioned having work today.

Not bothering to cover up his yawn, Matthew stretched his right arm out to grab his cell phone off the bedside table. After a moment of consideration he grabbed his glasses as well and perched them on the bridge of his nose. They were crooked. Matthew sent a half-hearted glare to his sleeping bed mate. He'd lost track of just how many times he told Gilbert not to throw his glasses. Unfortunately Gilbert had a terrible habit of getting worked up about something and never listening to a word Matthew said. Matthew pushed a button on the side of the phone to unlock it and a notification for a missed call flashed for just a second before the screen lit up a bright white color. Before the obnoxious ringtone Alfred had programmed onto the phone (and Matthew was too forgetful to change) could wake up Gilbert, Matthew answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Ah-um Matthew? Is this a bad time?" It only took the blonde a few seconds to place the accented voice.

"No, no it's fine I'm not-um what's up Arthur? Is everything alright?"

The Brit didn't answer for a few minutes, Matthew even had to check and make sure the phone call was still connected when Arthur didn't respond to Matthew calling his name.

"I have a date tonight." Arthur finally muttered.

"You have a date?" Matthew repeated, unsure if he had heard Arthur correctly or not. The Englishman made a quiet noise of confirmation. "That's um…that's great Arthur." Matthew said when Arthur didn't elaborate. On the other line, Arthur sighed audibly.

"I'm sorry, Matthew. I'm not sure why I called you. I'm just not…I don't know what to do."

Matthew was quiet for a few minutes, letting what Arthur said replay in his mind. Gilbert was still snoring and Matthew found himself running his fingers through the man's short silky hair.

"Do you like them?"

"Who?"

"The person who asked you out on the date Arthur." Matthew replied with a soft laugh.

"I think I do." Arthur reluctantly admitted.

"Then what's the problem?"

"I don't know how to  _date_. I mean, I haven't been on a date since college and even then, I would hardly call what I was doing 'dating'."

Matthew found himself smiling at Arthur's nervousness. It reminded him of when he and Alfred were in middle school, and Arthur was in high school. He wanted to ask someone out on a date but didn't have a clue how to approach it, so he came to Alfred for advice, though he'd never admit that he was searching for help when he showed up at their house that afternoon. Alfred didn't manage to provide him with anything useful-as it turns out Alfred was worse at dating than Arthur was-but the three of them entertained themselves for a few hours bouncing ideas off each other.

"Just go on the date and be yourself." Matthew advised Arthur. "If you got close enough to someone for them to ask you on a date, I'm sure that they want to date  _you_."

Matthew looked down at Gilbert, who was slowly beginning to wake up. He wasn't exactly good at dating either but he could try and help.

Arthur was floored by Matthew's advice. Not that it was unexpected or strange but his comment after; even after all these years (and despite the fact that Arthur was never as close to Matthew as he was to Alfred), the young man still knew Arthur well. Of course he had to be familiar with Francis, dare he say even close to Francis, before he would even consider going on a date with him. He wouldn't be comfortable if he wasn't and Arthur was undeniably, strangely comfortable with Francis.

"You-You're right, Matthew. Thank you. I apologize for bothering you. I suppose I just needed someone to tell."

Matthew promised Arthur that it was no problem and wished him good luck on his date. Then phone call ended shortly after.

Gilbert was still motionless but his snoring has all but stopped.

Matthew ignored the notification of the missed call in exchange for one of a new voicemail. Swiftly typing in his password and pulling the phone to his ear, Matthew listened to his new message.

"One unheard message. Tuesday, August 20th, 2013. 8:45 a.m." The mechanical voice recited before a breathy, familiar voice filled Matthew's ears.

"Mathieu! I did it! I asked him out on a date. A real date."

"End of message."

Matthew sat with the phone in his hand, grinning ear to ear. How could he forget that Francis and Arthur lived in the same apartment complex?

* * *

"Oi! Boy! You're late!"

Francis looked up from the dish he was preparing to see his pale coworker and old friend duck away from a thrown cooking utensil.

"I should sue you." Gilbert shouted back, once he was out of his boss's throwing range.

"You don't have the money or education to sue me." Francis heard the boss mutter. Gilbert feigned insult but didn't provoke the moody woman any more than he already had. Gilbert disappeared into the back room and returned a few moments later buttoning the top of his uniform. Francis shook his head.

"Oh shut up Franny, we can't all wake up at the crack of dawn to start preparing food." Francis snorted as his friend half-heartedly shoved his shoulder. The albino man squeezed between Francis and another member of the kitchen staff to get to his post.

"You're lucky you haven't been fired yet. Starting work at nine o'clock is not that obscene,  _mon ami_."

Gilbert replied with an exasperated "duh" look.

" _Ja_ , it is. And that old bat won't fire me. She'd have no one to yell at."

Gilbert's German accent was especially thick and a smirk made its way onto Francis's face when he finally noted how heavily the "Prussian" slurred his English words.

"Ah. So that is why you were late."

Gilbert's hair stood on end as he felt rather than saw the look Francis sent his way.

"I don't know what you're talking about Franny."

Francis took his dish off the flame, turning to the cleared counter next to him to begin plating the dish.

"Who was it, Gilbert? Lizzie or your mysterious 'Birdie'."

" 'Birdie' and I are just  _freunde_." Gilbert immediately responded. He was always touchy on the subject of he and 'Birdie'.

"Friends? Gilbert you've been saying you're just friends with her for three years."

"We are."

 _So it was 'Birdie'_. Francis thought to himself. The only time he got such a defensive reaction from Gilbert was when the German-Prussian man had spent the night previously with his mysterious "friend".

Francis put up the plate for a waiter to grab and started on his next order. He didn't say anything else on the topic for a few minutes, focusing his attention on the dish he was preparing. Francis could feel Gilbert's exotic red eyes watching his every move. Finally the silver haired man gave a disgruntled sigh.

"Shut up Francis."

"So will we ever get to meet the mysterious 'Birdie' or learn her actual name?" Francis asked.

" _Nein_."

Francis arched an eyebrow.

" _Quoi_? Why not? You've raved about how great 'Birdie' is for the past three years nearly every time you, Antonio, and I go out. Why do you refuse to introduce us?"

"Because we're not serious, Franny. What's the point in introducing you three?"

"Not serious." Francis laughed. "You've never been in a relationship longer than six months. Yet three years later…"

"Exactly. It's lasted because it is not a relationship. Just…"

"Sex?"

Gilbert looked down at the food he had started to prepare with a strangely forlorn look.

" _Ja_. Just sex."

Francis dropped the subject. He'd known Gilbert long enough to know when not to push the man anymore. His flamboyant friend was obviously troubled by something going on with him and Birdie and Gilbert would tell Francis and Antonio when and if he needed to.

The two worked quietly for the next few hours. They focused on the food they were cooking and the customers they were serving. Other than a few "pardon me"s and "could you pass the…" Gilbert and Francis hardly spoke. It wasn't until their lunch break that Francis got to tell his close friend about the possible advancement in his romantic life.

Gilbert had actually brought the subject up. He knew how long the Frenchman had been struggling with the stubborn Brit in his apartment complex. He thought perhaps he could tease the Frenchman a little as pay back for the grilling he had been given coming into work.

Gilbert's jaw nearly hit the floor when Francis finally admitted he asked Arthur on an actual date. Francis hadn't been on a date for years. All three members of the jokingly dubbed "Bad Friends Trio" weren't that great at "conventional dating".

"When is the date?"

Francis shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

"Well if Arthur agrees. It is tonight."

" _Mein Gott_." Gilbert laughed with a shake of his head. "You're an even bigger  _dummkopf_ than I thought."


	14. Chapter 14

It was about 9:30 that night when Francis finally had to face the facts-Arthur wasn't coming. The possibility had always been there, that Arthur didn't want the same thing Francis did, but the Frenchman had been  _so sure_  that something was actually going on with Arthur. It hurt, a lot more than it should have, finally admitting that he was wrong.

Francis sat on the sidewalk outside the restaurant where he works, and was supposed to meet Arthur, smoking a cigarette. Gilbert sat next to him, at a loss in the situation. Not only could he not remember the last time someone turned down or stood up Francis, but the Frenchman's disappointment-and dare he say sadness-was nearly tangible. Francis hadn't been in such a bad mood in years, not since he first came over to America.

"Maybe," Gilbert had to clear his throat a few times to get the words out. "Maybe he's just late."

_Yeah right, Gott I'm terrible at this whole "comforting" thing. Mattie would know what to say._

Francis shook his head, giving Gilbert a small half-smile to let his friend know he at least appreciated the effort.

"In the four years I've known Arthur, he's only been late once. And it was only by a few minutes-not nearly two and a half  _hours_."

Inwardly, Gilbert flinched. With a dejected sigh, Francis pushed himself to his feet. Gilbert watched helplessly as Francis dropped what was left of his cigarette to the asphalt beneath him and ground out the heat with his shoe.

"I think I'm going to head h-"

"Wait!" Gilbert interrupted, jumping to his feet. "Come out with me."

"Excuse me?"

"For drinks." Gilbert elaborated. "You, me, and Toni. Come on Franny we haven't gone out for drinks in ages. And it'll get your mind off all this."

Francis studied the albino with an apprehensive look. Then Francis ran a hand down his face and gave a half-hearted laugh.

"I suppose you're right. Fine. Sure. Let's go out for drinks."

Gilbert grinned.

"Yeah! Alright. Let me go call Toni."

* * *

It was about seven o'clock in the evening when Arthur realized something was wrong. He had only been gone a few minutes-ten at the most-while he got his mail but in that time someone had broken into his flat. The idea that his flat had been broken into wouldn't normally be Arthur's first assumption, but he knew he had locked the door behind him when he left. And the broken door and splintered wood littering his door way helped the theory. Hesitantly, Arthur stepped over the mess into his flat.

The living room was in shambles; the couch cushions had been overturned and then discarded onto the floor where they bordered the tipped over coffee table. A book Arthur had been reading before he went to get the mail was bent awkwardly, lying in the puddle of spilled tea, next to the broken cup. Somewhere in the mess was hidden Arthur's television remote and the letter from Francis but Arthur had to admit finding those items weren't currently a priority. The first thing he should do was make sure the intruder wasn't still in his flat-and that Alice was okay-before he called the police.

Promising himself that he would clean up the living room as soon as he got off the phone with the police, Arthur walked past his fallen floor lamp to examine the rest of his home.

The bathroom was the first room he checked and though the lights were off, the door was partially opened. Thankfully it proved to be empty. Alice peered out of the hall closet when she heard Arthur shutting the bathroom door and meowed softly to alert him. Arthur smiled, relieved, when he turned to see the half-hidden Scottish fold looking at him. Sweeping the brown and white cat into his arms, Arthur checked her over for injuries, despite her quiet, frustrated meows.

Finally reassured that Alice wasn't hurt, Arthur continued his examination of the flat-grumpy feline in tow. The next room for Arthur to check was his bedroom. Like the bathroom, from the hallway Arthur could tell the lights were off and the door was partially open. Unlike the bathroom, what appeared to be a shoe was sticking out of the door. Holding Alice tighter to his chest, Arthur sucked in a deep breath and slowly pushed open the bedroom door.

The first thing Arthur noticed was the body half-draped over his bed. The  _one-shoed_  body half-draped over the bed and  _bleeding_ all over his recently washed comforter. Next to the body was one of Arthur's bedside table lamps, the lampshade knocked off and the porcelain base shattered. The bedside table had also been knocked over, trapping an upside down picture frame beneath it.

"I-I think you should sit this out old girl." Arthur muttered quietly, turning around to place Alice safely outside his bedroom. Once she scampered out of sight, Arthur walked around the bed-stepping over the half of the body still on his carpeted floor and avoiding looking at it as much as possible-to pick up the telephone from its cradle.

Arthur was just about to push 'TALK' on the handset to call 9-1-1 when a muffled noise came from the bed. Arthur nearly dropped his phone in surprise. The body was lying face down and with that much blood lost the Englishman had just assumed-maybe even hoped a little bit-that it was a  _dead_  body. Then the damage was already done, no worry about whoever this stranger was.

_I'm imagining things. The body is not coming back to life._

Deciding that he was in fact imagining things, Arthur pushed the last button and put the now ringing phone to his ear.

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?" The operator had a calming female voice when she answered Arthur's call.

"Um yes, hello. Uh someone-someone broke into my flat. I'm not sure if anything has been stolen but there's a body."

"There's a body?"

"Yes" was what Arthur was going to say but instead it came out as "Eek!"

"Sir? Are you alright?"

"It's not dead!" Arthur jumped farther away from his bed in surprise. "I thought there was a dead body but it just moved."

"Okay sir, just stay calm. Now I need your address so that the officers can help you and we can get an ambulance for the person in your apartment."

Arthur rattled off the address of his apartment complex his apartment number then bid the 9-1-1 operator good-bye.

Now that that was all taken care of, Arthur's new concern was the not-dead dead body. Moving back, closer to his bed Arthur studied the, most likely male, person. They had only moved slightly while he was on the phone, just enough to catch his eye and make their faint breathing slightly more obvious so most of their face was still buried in his sheets, or covered by their golden blonde hair. Hesitantly, Arthur pushed their shoulder, trying to use just enough force to turn the man's head. He figured it wouldn't be the best idea to allow him to suffocate himself now that an ambulance was on the way.

It took a few more shoves and a little more effort but eventually Arthur flipped the body over. With the blonde hair out of the way, Arthur could take in the man's face; his square jaw and straight nose; his crooked glasses…

Arthur pushed the man's shaggy bangs out of his face and stumbled back in surprise.

Why was  _Alfred_  unconscious on his bed?

* * *

"I'm so sorry  _amigo_." Antonio repeated for probably the tenth time that night. Gilbert rolled his eyes but Francis only smiled at his well-meaning Spanish friend. Antonio never was good at holding his liquor.

"It's alright  _mon ami_." Francis reassured the dark haired male for the tenth time that night. "I'm fine. A little disappointed but I'm okay."

Antonio nodded sadly and turned back to his drink. The normally cheerful Spaniard was rather subdued tonight as he had had another fight with his-well Francis wasn't really sure what they considered each other but-Lovino, before Gilbert called him and the moody Italian went to stay at his brother's house until he cooled off-or his brother's boyfriend pissed him off too much and he came back home. Which was what always happened. Antonio and Lovino would fight so Lovino would go stay with his much friendlier twin brother Feliciano until he cooled off. However, Lovino hates Feliciano's boyfriend, Ludwig-the complete opposite of his older brother Gilbert, and he'd come home. More often than not, Lovino would forgive Antonio for whatever he did to anger him on the drive to Feliciano's house but Lovino was stubborn. Despite knowing how easily he was forgiven, Antonio was always somewhat weepy until Lovino came back.

Gilbert wasn't making his usual rounds through the crowd. At first Francis had thought the sometimes crude, but usually well-meaning, German had just been making sure Francis and Antonio were alright as both of them were rather down when they arrived at the bar but eventually that theory was pushed aside. Now Francis wasn't really sure what to think. Gilbert stayed close by Francis and Antonio all night and the only flirting he did was with the women who came up to him first-and then it was only half-hearted. Gilbert was obviously distracted by something, and for the past few minutes, Francis had been nursing the idea that it had something to do with Gilbert's mysterious "Birdie".

Leaning back against the bar, Francis sighed. Gilbert had good intentions when he invited Francis and Antonio out. He wanted to cheer up his friend. Unfortunately when it turned out that all of them needed some kind of cheering up, they didn't do each other much help.

* * *

The police and the ambulance arrived roughly around the same time to Arthur's flat. They took Alfred to the hospital immediately but Arthur stayed behind to go through everything with the officers. After making his statement with them, going through the whole flat twice to make sure that nothing was stolen, and then cleaning up what he could of the mess made by the intruder, more than an hour had passed. Arthur waited a little while longer for the landlord to arrive and discuss with him what was to be done about the ruined door. Once they came to a decision, Arthur finally left to check up on Alfred at the hospital.

When Arthur arrived to the hospital, the police had just finished talking with Alfred about what had happened. The blonde had only been awake for a few minutes and was still very unsteady. It took a little more pushing than Arthur might like to admit but eventually they allowed him to see Alfred. The younger blonde gave Arthur a weak copy of his usual 100-watt smile and for reasons he couldn't really name, Arthur felt something tight in his chest.

"Hey Arthur. You came to visit me." Alfred greeted quietly.

"I'm-I'm glad you're okay," was Arthur's response. "Well considering."

Alfred looked down at his arm where all sorts of wires were attached-more than Arthur ever would have thought necessary and a small, airy sound Arthur thought might've been a laugh accompanied his reply of: "Yeah, I'm a little banged up I guess." Arthur shook his head, most likely from disbelief at Alfred's ability to  _laugh_  at the situation, and moved farther into the room to sit at the bedside chair. Alfred made himself more comfortable on the narrow hospital bed with a surprisingly content look on his face. Arthur assumed it was from all the drugs he was most likely on.

"So I guess they called Mattie and Kiku while I was unconscious. Mattie didn't answer, little shit, and Keeks…he was in a meeting out of town. He was supposed to be gone for three days but he's coming back because of what happened. Man I screwed up."

"I'm glad they were called though. It completely slipped my mind." Alfred shrugged but didn't comment. Arthur shifted his weight and leaned closer to Alfred. "Al…Alfred, I have to ask. Why were you in my flat?"

Alfred looked at Arthur with wide eyes as if allowing the Brit's words to process. Finally, he dropped his head back onto the pillow and laughed; a loud, hearty laugh that both embarrassed and relieved Arthur. Alfred couldn't be that badly hurt if he was laughing like that. Arthur let Alfred wear himself out, shaking his head when the blonde had to wipe tears from his eyes.

"Of course that's what you're worried about. I wasn't the one who trashed the place." Alfred paused to think. "Okay, well I did break the door-but the rest of it wasn't me."

Arthur didn't bother correcting Alfred about why he was asking. "I figured you at least didn't do all the damage. You are a clumsy buffoon most of the time but even you couldn't manage to smash a lamp on the back of your own head in that way." Alfred rolled his eyes.

"I was coming to see if you wanted to…" Alfred stopped and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I was coming to see you for…something. I think Kiku wanted me to talk to you about…Mattie? No. Mattie wouldn't answer his phone and I don't remember why I was coming to see you but I guess that might happen after being hit on the head. Anyways, when I got there the door was shut and locked. I knocked and called your name a few times. There was a loud crash and then silence so I knocked a few more times and asked if you were okay but you never responded."

"So you kicked down my door?"

"I didn't know what was going on. You could have fallen, knocked yourself unconscious, and suffocated or bled to death locked up all alone in your own apartment." Alfred argued defensively.

_Like you just were?_

"You always have to be the hero, don't you Alfred?"

"Whatever Arthur. So as I was saying before I was so  _rudely_  interrupted, I kicked open the door. The living room was a disaster but I didn't see anybody so I went towards the hall. I thought I saw movement in your bedroom, and it could've just been Alice, but I figured that wasn't the case based on the state of your living room. So I went to investigate. I heard the noise of the lamp shattering before I registered the pain and the next thing I remember was waking up in the hospital and being told officers needed to talk to me."

"Thank you Alfred." The blonde sent Arthur a baffled look, prompting the Brit to-reluctantly-elaborate. "For caring. For making sure I was okay-or trying."

The door opened before Alfred could respond. A nurse stood with her hand on the door knob watching the two men.

"Mr. Jones, your brother and fiancé here to see you, if you're still feeling up to visitors." Alfred replied with an exuberant smile and a "bring them in" kind of hand gesture. The nurse disappeared from the doorway to allow Matthew and Kiku to enter. The door closed behind them once more.

Kiku was the first to reach Alfred's bedside. He leaned down and wrapped his arms, gingerly, around the blonde's shoulders. If Alfred's surprised and pleased expression was any indication, Kiku wasn't usually the one to initiate contact. Arthur stood up from his seat and went to the door. He should probably let Kiku and Matthew make their own decisions on Alfred's health.

Arthur had been using a payphone and a phone book in the hospital's lobby to look for a room vacancy at a hotel that allowed animals when Matthew joined him. Alice was waiting for him in the car with Arthur's overnight bag. Arthur's door couldn't be replaced until tomorrow morning and he really had no intentions of staying in the flat without a door. So far, he'd had no luck. There were plenty of vacancies but no one would allow Arthur to have an animal with him and Arthur wasn't about to leave Alice in the car all night.

"Are you alright?" Was the first thing Matthew asked after Arthur hung up the phone.

"What I-I'm fine. Alfred's the only one, from the sounds of things, who was hurt." Arthur replied. Matthew shrugged. Matthew was standing so that his side faced Arthur, looking out through the glass doors. Arthur tried to ignore the collection of purplish bruises making their way around Matthew's neck and disappearing beneath his shirt.

"Alfred told us what happened. It sounds like your apartment was hurt a little bit too." Matthew said, finally turning to look at Arthur. The Brit gave a sheepish shrug.

"Well a bit I suppose."

Matthew shook his head and turned his gaze away from Arthur to look at the wall clock above his head. It was nearly eleven o'clock.

"You-You found Alfred around seven o'clock didn't you?" Matthew asked. Arthur nodded with a curious look. "Have you stopped to eat anything or even just rest a little?"

Arthur shook his head. "Uh no I had-" Arthur covered his mouth as the realization hit him. "I had dinner plans Matthew, bloody hell." Whipping around, Arthur looked to the wall clock and swore a second-and then a third-time when he saw how late it was. "I have to go."

* * *

The last thing Francis had expected to find when he got home at twelve thirty was Arthur sitting on the ground in front of his door, asleep with a bag of take-out food next to him and Alice curled up in his lap. Briefly, Francis considered the possibility that he had drank more than he should have but he quickly dismissed the thought. Three drinks weren't enough to make him  _that_  drunk.

"Arthur?" Francis called quietly, bending down to be at eye level with the sleeping Brit. "Arthur what are you doing here?" Francis reached out and gently pushed Arthur's shoulder. Green eyes immediately fluttered open.

"Francis! You're home."

It took much more self-restraint than it should have for Francis to keep down his smile. He didn't think he had ever heard so much joy in Arthur's voice before and certainly not when talking to Francis.

"What are you doing here?"

Arthur looked to the ground then and a light pink dusted his face. Weakly he gestured to the take-out bag next to him.

"Apologizing."

Despite the voice inside his head telling him not to give in-a voice that sounded suspiciously like Gilbert-Francis stood up and offered Arthur his hand.

"Why don't you come inside and explain. My couch is much more comfortable than my floor."

Even if Arthur hadn't been at Francis's apartment looking so damn cute and regretful, Francis probably would have forgiven him the minute he saw Arthur's relieved smile.

Arthur's hand was soft and warm in Francis's slightly-bigger one and the Frenchman didn't really want to let go but Arthur dropped his hand in exchange for picking up the food while Francis unlocked the door. Arthur held Alice up with his other arm and the brown and white feline never took her eyes off Francis. He wasn't sure what to think of Alice's almost challenging look.

Francis flipped on the overhead light, rousting Françoise from the nap she was taking a few feet in front of the door. The long haired feline gave Francis a quiet "mew" as a greeting but lifted her head off the ground when she spotted Arthur and Alice. Francis nodded a hello to Françoise before taking the bag of food from Arthur and going to his kitchen.

"Behave please." Arthur whispered to Alice, who replied with a quiet almost-growl. Ignoring her, Arthur bent down to place Alice on the ground. "This is Françoise and I think Francis would appreciate it if you didn't fight with her." Arthur stood up. "Françoise, this is Alice." He added. The Englishman then disappeared into the kitchen as well.

Alice sent an indignant look towards the direction her human had gone. He treated her like some kind of misbehaving kitten. She hadn't even complained when he kept her locked in a cold car for more than an hour, nor did she run off when he fell asleep. How rude.

Françoise got to her feet in order to get closer to the new visitor. She had never seen a cat quite like Alice. Brown spots over her short white coat weren't all that strange but the folded down ears were something new entirely. Françoise quite liked the look of Alice's eyes too, even if they had an angry glint to them.

While their companions were becoming-somewhat-associated with each other in the living room, Arthur and Francis were being rather quiet in the kitchen. Francis was moving around the rather large room, warming up the food Arthur had brought and getting some silver ware and two plates for them to use out of the cupboards. Arthur was watching the Frenchman, a bit awed by just how gracefully the Frenchman was moving around the room; going from one thing to another. After a few minutes, Francis nodded towards the living room and carried the two plates of food out, expecting Arthur to follow. The Englishman did with a painful lump in his throat. Francis was understandably angry but it didn't make Arthur any more okay with the situation.

It wasn't until they were more than half way through their food that Arthur finally broke the awkward silence.

"My flat was broken into."

Francis paused with a fork full of food half way to his mouth. Arthur looked at him out of the corner of his eye before quickly looking back down at his food.

"Around seven o'clock." Arthur continued, clearing his throat. "I had gone to get the mail and when I came back the door had been kicked in. My living room was torn apart like someone had been looking for something. Francis lowered his fork back onto his plate and moved the plate to the table. Arthur sighed and leaned against the back of the couch. "If just my things had been broken I wouldn't have had such a problem but then I went to my bedroom. There was a person. Honestly they looked dead. Face down on my mattress and there was so much blood. It didn't really hit me until after the police left but Francis there was so much blood." Arthur shook his head as if to dislodge the image. "It turns out the person was a-uh distant relative; an old friend."

"Are they alright?" Francis had to ask. Arthur was nearly shaking as he spoke and it took all of Francis's self-restraint, maybe even a little extra he had to dig deep to find, to not reach out to touch the blonde sitting next to him.

"They are now. I guess they had been planning to drop by and surprise me but when they got there the door was locked and they heard something strange inside the flat. He uh-" Arthur paused and gave a small laugh. "He was the one who kicked in my door. Thought I might be hurt. Whoever had come in and torn apart my living room waited until he went into the bedroom and they hit him over the head with my bedside lamp. He'd probably only been unconscious a few minutes by the time I got back to my flat but the gash on his head was so big-and because it was a head wound-he lost a lot of blood in the short time. He's at the hospital right now, staying overnight."

"I'm so sorry Arthur."

"I hadn't meant to miss our…our date Francis but by the time I made it to the hospital and made sure Alfred-my old friend-was alright it was nearly eleven o'clock. With everything going on the police and Alfred being in the hospital dinner was the last thing on my mind and by the time I realized I had forgotten I figured it would be too late. There was no way you would still be at the restaurant and I…well I don't actually have your phone number so I couldn't call you. The best I could do was come to your flat and hope you were home." The end of Arthur's story came out in a flood of words Francis only just followed. Arthur put his plate down on the coffee table, next to Francis's and stood up.

"I just wanted to apologize for well…standing you up?" As a second though Arthur picked up his plate and took it into the kitchen. He reappeared a minute later. "Alice and I will go now. I wanted you to know, I had been looking forward to the date Francis. I'm sorry."

"Where are you going to stay? At home with your missing front door?" Francis asked, stopping Arthur before he left the room. A sheepish expression took over Arthur's pale features.

"Actually I was just going to look around until I found a motel or something for the two of us to stay at tonight."

"Stay here Arthur." Francis said, rising from the couch and moving closer to the Englishman. Arthur tried to argue but Francis placed his hands on Arthur's shoulders and gave him a small smile. "You've barely been here twenty minutes. That's hardly a worthwhile date, especially with your reheated take-out dinner. Make it up to me by staying. Besides, it's well past midnight by now, you're exhausted, and Françoise and I don't mind Alice." Arthur studied Francis's expression.

"You won't let me argue my way out of this will you?" Arthur sighed. Francis's smile grew.

"As if you really want to." He replied, laughing when he saw Arthur roll his eyes.


	15. Chapter 15

Francis woke up with an extra furry lump at the foot of the bed and a head of messy blonde hair lying on his bare chest. The vague memory of Arthur rolling over right before they fell asleep and telling Francis that he was "more comfortable on his left side and to get that stupid smirk of his face" was clouded by the feeling of Arthur's faint breath against his skin. With the arm that wasn't partially trapped under Arthur, Francis pushed the Englishman's ruffled hair out of his face. Arthur's lips were slightly parted and his cheeks were dyed pink. Suddenly Francis was entertaining the idea of Arthur's hair being mused from something very different then sleeping; every inch of his fair skin being dyed the same kissable pink. Arthur's breath coasting over his bare skin as he moaned; lips red and swollen.

Francis bent his head and hid his smile in Arthur's hair; with a shaky breath he inhaled Arthur's unique scent mixed with his own cologne.

After a few more minutes spent taking in the calming atmosphere, Francis very slowly tried to move out of the bed without jostling Arthur. He hadn't gotten very far when Arthur made a quiet noise of discomfort and his eyes blinked awake.

The two laid in silence, staring at each other for a while.

"Francis." Arthur finally said. His voice was still heavy with sleep.

"Good morning Arthur." Francis replied. Finally, Arthur broke eye contact too look around the room, specifically at the position the two of them were laying in. Without another word, Arthur rolled over to the other side of the bed and pulled the covers over his head.

"Is something wrong?"

"Nope. No. Everything is just fine how's your morning going Francis?" Arthur replied from where he was hiding. Francis felt a smile tugging at his lips at Arthur's reaction.

"My morning is going great." Francis moved closer to the blonde, leaning over him. "I woke up with the most delectable sight in front of me, and a delicious weight against me."

It seemed the only reaction Francis was going to get out of Arthur was a somewhat-surprised, somewhat-embarrassed squeak from where he stayed hidden under the blankets. With a quiet laugh, Francis rolled back over to his side of the bed and stood up.

"I'm going to make breakfast, if you have no objections. You're welcome to take a shower while I prepare it if you'd like."

Once he was sure Francis was gone, Arthur removed the sheets from over his head and sat up. His face still felt flushed. Fanning himself half-heartedly with his hand, Arthur looked to the foot of the bed. Alice was awake and watching him curiously, as if she was using her human's reaction to determine how she felt about the whole situation. Françoise was blissfully asleep, curled up so that she was nearly on top of the temperamental Scottish fold. Arthur hid his laugh with a cough before he could anger Alice and left the bedroom to shower.

* * *

Freshly clothed, with still slightly damp hair Arthur joined Francis in the kitchen a few minutes later. While the Frenchman was busy with the breakfast preparations, Arthur took the time to look around the spacious room. Francis's kitchen was at least twice the size of Arthur's with all new appliances. His stove was probably worth a month or so of Arthur's paycheck alone. Francis turned around, looking for something and met Arthur's eyes. He greeted the Brit with a smile Arthur couldn't help but return. How could the Frenchman be so infectiously happy all the time?

"Is  _pain aux raisins_  alright with you?" Francis asked, placing a plate with the said dish on the island near Arthur. "It's just reheated from earlier in the week…"

"It looks delicious."

"Would you like some  _café_?" Francis asked, gesturing to the freshly brewed pot on the counter. Arthur tried not to wrinkle his nose at the bitter drink.

"You wouldn't happen to have some tea would you?" Francis shook his head.

" _Non_ , I'm afraid not." Arthur sighed.

"Alright I'll have some but only a little."

Francis nodded, going to the cupboard to retrieve the coffee mugs.

"Cream or sugar?"

"Both, please."

Once Francis was done preparing their drinks the two men sat on two of the three bar stools along the island to eat their breakfast. They sat across from each other and exchanged casual conversation until Francis's flirting pushed Arthur far enough for him to retaliate with some slight flirting of his own. Some twenty minutes later Francis set to cleaning up after breakfast.

"Do you have a phone I could borrow? I need to make a few calls." Arthur asked as Francis piled the dirty dishes in the sink. He had offered to do them multiple times but Francis refused to let him. Francis pulled a slim cellphone from his back pocket and handed it to Arthur. When the screen lit up, it showed the time and date above a picture of Françoise with a large pink bow tied around her neck, napping. Arthur swiped a finger across the bottom of the screen to unlock the phone. The cellphone's wallpaper was a picture of Francis and two other men, Antonio and someone who looked suspiciously similar to Gilbert Beilschmidt. Francis was standing in the middle of the three of them with his arms draped over their shoulders. Antonio looked to be dozing on Francis's shoulder, Gilbert was laughing with a beer in his hand, and Francis had a paper birthday hat on top of his head, skewed to the side and a huge smile on his face.

Francis watched a small smile dance over Arthur's features as he took in the picture-the Brit most likely unaware of it.

"Looks like you were having fun." Arthur commented, not looking up from the screen. He gently pressed the screen to bring up the keypad.

"It's from my birthday last year." Francis explained. Arthur gave a nod of acknowledgement before he put the phone to his ear. Francis went back to the dishes as the phone rang. Less than a minute later he heard Arthur give a quiet, frustrated huff and then the quiet click of the phone being placed on the marble top of the island.

Francis quickly finished up the few dishes in his sink before picking up his phone. After a moment of consideration, he gave Arthur a curious look.

"Arthur, do you have a cellphone?"

"Oh no. I never bothered to get a mobile. I just have the landline." Francis's brows scrunched together.

"Perhaps you should get one. It's just you in your apartment, and that way people could reach you when you are not at home"

Arthur shook his head. "I'm fine Francis, really. Very few people try to contact me as it is." Francis didn't look convinced.

"Just think about it." It took Arthur reassuring Francis that he would consider getting a cell phone three or four times before the Frenchman dropped the subject in exchange for getting in the shower.

Francis had only been in the shower a few minutes when Françoise and Alice wandered into the living room where Arthur sat flipping through one of Francis's magazines. Alice immediately hopped into Arthur's lap, leaving Françoise on the floor in front of them. The white haired cat watched her guests with clear blue eyes. Arthur almost swore she was smiling at the two of them. Brushing aside the thought, Arthur smiled down at the two felines, scratching Alice behind her ears.

"Good morning girls. Did you sleep well?"

Alice gave a quiet huff and put her head down, as if she was going back to sleep. Françoise replied with a small meow, scampering off towards the kitchen afterwards.

Smiling, Arthur went back to the magazine.

* * *

"You really didn't need to come with me, Francis." Arthur insisted for the fourth or fifth time since the two men had left Francis's apartment. They were going to meet the landlord at Arthur's flat while a new door was installed. As Arthur finished speaking, they reached the top of the stairs, leading them to Arthur's floor.

"I know, you said that. But we're already here so accept that I wanted to come and shush." Francis replied tapping the tip of Arthur's nose with his finger and pulling the Englishman further down the hall. Arthur muttered a few choice insults under his breath while silently thanking whoever was listening that Francis didn't see his blush.

Standing outside Arthur's flat were two men. The taller of the two men had short blonde hair. His bangs swept just over the rim of his wire glasses, hiding somewhat alarming blue eyes. The fact that he was effortlessly holding a door over his head did nothing to dispute his frightening aura. The shorter of the two had slightly longer blonde hair. His side-swept bangs continuously fell into large brown eyes as he talked in an animated fashion to his silent counterpart. Francis and Arthur waited a few minutes for the two men to notice their presence but the shorter man's back was to them and if the taller man noticed them, he didn't let on.

"Mr. Väinämöinen?" Arthur finally called, hoping he wasn't disturbing the couple's discussion too much. The short, blonde landlord turned around when he heard his name, flashing a smile at the two men. His face flushed when he realized he had most likely been ignoring them.

"Mr. Kirkland, Mr. Bonnefoy." He greeted, shaking both of their hands respectively. "I'm sorry, were you waiting here very long?"

"Oh no, we only just got here." Arthur immediately reassured him. Something about the blonde's smile became more sincere once Arthur reassured him that instantly made Arthur a little happier too. It was hard not to like the apartment complex's landlord, with his open, friendly face and kind disposition.

"Oh good." Tino Väinämöinen gestured then to the man next to him. "You have both met my partner-"

"Husband." The second man interrupted, though it came out sounding more like "h'b'nd" thanks to the man's thick accent. Tino also spoke with a thick accent that Arthur could never exactly place but he was fairly certain the accent was from one of the Nordic European countries. Thankfully his was easier to understand that his partner's.

"Husband," Tino confirmed, blushing. "Berwald, correct?"

"I believe we met briefly when I first moved in." Francis replied, to which Arthur agreed. Berwald nodded a curt hello but didn't say anything. Tino laughed a bit nervously.

"Well why don't we all go inside there's a bit more than just the new door to discuss." Tino said, motioning for Arthur and Francis to go in ahead of him. Curious as to what else there could be to discuss, Arthur led the way inside. Francis still had his arm threaded through Arthur's, making sure the Brit was hyper aware of his warm side pressed against Arthur's own.

Arthur and Francis both paused when they heard Tino's hushed whisper of "Why didn't you tell me they were waiting behind me?" from out in the hallway.

Arthur took the liberty of interpreting Berwald's reply as "You were talking." To which the tall man got a sighed "Oh Sve." in reply.

Arthur and Francis opted to continue standing while waiting for Tino and Berwald, who were trying to decide the best place to put down Arthur's front door. The decided to leave it propped against the wall, right inside the door way. Once that was settled, Tino turned towards Arthur and Francis with a tangible, nervous air around him.

"Is there some kind of problem, other than the front door?" Arthur forced himself to ask. He couldn't stand the awkward silence that had fallen over the flat.

"I suppose there's no avoiding the subject. The problem is this way." Tino sighed, leading the others towards Arthur's bathroom.

At first glance, Arthur didn't notice anything strange. There was his same tan-and-brown linoleum tiled floor with its slight off-coloring along the edges and the slight wrinkling of the pale blue wallpaper high in the corners of the room. But as he noticed that his floor mats and been taken off the floor and hung over the side of the bathtub, he also noticed a few towels-that weren't his-hanging to dry. Finally the slight smell of mold, accompanied by the stench of what he prayed wasn't actually sewage assaulted him. Covering his nose, Arthur took a step back.

"What happened?"

Tino sighed heavily. "When we got here this morning we took a quick sweep of all the rooms, to see if there were any other doors or things we might need to replace that you might have missed in all the chaos yesterday. Our investigation stopped when we noticed water coming from the bathroom, into the hallway. From the looks of things somewhere in the building a major pipe burst and the leakage started in your apartment. We're still investigating what pipe burst and how but until it's all straightened out we had to turn off the water in this building. Thankfully this is one of the smaller buildings but most of the residents have opted to find somewhere else to stay for the few days it might take for this all to be settled."

Arthur couldn't help himself from running a hand over his face and muttering "What else could possibly go wrong?"

"I'm very sorry Mr. Kirkland, for all of this. If there's anything I can do to help you I will try."

"No, no that's alright. It's just been a very long week." Arthur offered a stiff smile. "Thank you for the offer though." Arthur sighed. "It's just now I have to find a place to sta-" Arthur trailed off as Francis wrapped an arm around his shoulders and smiled down at the Brit.

"What we're you saying?"

"No, no, no Francis. One night was enough. I can't impose on you for some unknown duration of time. I just can't."

"Yes you can. I'm inviting you over, it's not you imposing when I'm the one who offered. And even pointlessly arguing with me over the subject is easier than finding somewhere else to stay."

Arthur opened his mouth to argue only to have Francis place a finger over his lips.

"Shh, I know. You don't need to tell me I'm right. Now go pack your things." With a gentle push, one of Francis's hands a little too low on his back for Arthur to believe it was a completely innocent gesture, Francis sent Arthur towards his room.

Arthur was half-heartedly grumbling foul things about Francis under his breath when he heard Francis bid Tino and Berwald farewell. Arthur couldn't help his mood. He hated this feeling of owing someone something, and even if is just Francis's way to be helpful, this would be the third-if not more, Arthur was starting to lose count-time Francis had helped Arthur when he was in a pinch without asking for anything in return. Sure the Frenchman had made it clear he wanted some kind of relationship with Arthur but someone's kindness could only go so far.

"Arthur?" Francis called, hesitantly opening the door to the Brit's bedroom. The dirty-blonde haired man had a deep scowl on his face as he looked off into the distance. A shirt he had most likely been in the midst of folding was balled into his hands. He felt a bit bad, he had been rather forceful about Arthur staying with him but in the short span of their relationship he knew enough of the man to know how stubborn Arthur could be. He would never want to admit he needs help, and he certainly wouldn't want to take advantage of someone's kindness. But if last night's problems with the motels were any indication, it would be nearly impossible for Arthur to find somewhere to stay for an undisclosed amount of time. "Are you almost ready to go?"

Arthur finally turned towards Francis but before he could answer, his phone rang. Gingerly placing his, now wrinkled, shirt on top of the bed Arthur went to pick up the phone.

Francis could hear the caller's voice from the other side of the room.

" _Bloody hell_  Alfred you were just in the hospital, how is it you can make so much noise?" Arthur hissed into the phone, switching ears to rub the one Alfred most likely just damaged. Francis could still hear the voice of the caller but Alfred had quieted enough that Francis couldn't make out exactly what he was saying.

"Okay yes you were in the hospital for a head injury there wasn't anything wrong with your lungs but  _still_. You could give anyone in a five kilometer radius-okay okay a five mile radius a headache with that racket."

Alfred spoke a mile a minute then and with each minute, Arthur's face grew paler. Worried, Francis crossed the room, though once he reached Arthur's side, he wasn't sure what the best way to help the Brit was, as he didn't know exactly what the problem was.

"Yes, yes. I'm fine." Arthur finally spoke quietly into the receiver. "Thank you Alfred. I'll talk to you later."

Lifelessly, Arthur hung up the phone and dropped it onto his bed.

"What's wrong,  _mon cher_?" Francis asked, placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

"I spoke too soon." Arthur muttered. "When I asked what else could go wrong." Arthur elaborated when he noticed Francis's confused look. "Alfred just called to tell me that as Kiku and Matthew were bringing him home from the hospital they passed by the office building when I work. A fire had started earlier this morning; almost none of the building is still standing."

"Oh Arthur." Francis pulled the Brit into a hug, running a hand through Arthur's messy hair.

"Out of a job and practically out of a flat in one day. I think that's a record." Arthur muttered against Francis's shirt.

"It could be worse,  _mon ami_. You could be out of a job and entirely out of a flat in one day." Francis tried to joke. He got a half-hearted punch to the abdomen as a reply.

"Don't jinx it."

Before he could restrain himself, Francis placed a chaste kiss to the top of Arthur's head.

"Come on, I know just what you need."


	16. Chapter 16

An hour later, Francis parked his black and silver Bugatti in a semi-crowded parking lot outside of what looked to Arthur a bit like a strip mall.

"Francis…what are we doing here?" Arthur asked, turning in his seat to look at the smiling Frenchman.

"You need some cheering up so that's what I'm doing; cheering you up. Now come on." Francis said as explanation, promptly getting out of the car.

Arthur took a deep breath before he followed Francis. The outside air was somewhat chilly and he was grateful for his jacket. He wasn't sure if he was grateful for being dragged two towns over just to be "cheered up" but Francis didn't seem to care. In fact he was waiting for Arthur with an infectious smile on his lips as he bounced on the balls of his feet. And once the frowning Englishman made his way over to Francis, he held out an arm as if he was Arthur's escort.

"Ready?"

"Hardly." Arthur mumbled back but he could feel a smile tugging on his lips as he watched the exuberant Frenchman beside him.

Ignoring Arthur's sour mood, Francis threaded their arms together and led the blonde through the brightly colored entrance, declaring to the visitors that the destination was "The River Place". Arthur wasn't quite sure what he was expecting, but the River Place was very different from whatever it was. It was a strip mall from what he could tell but the shops were nothing he had ever seen before. There wasn't even a clothing store in the whole plaza as far as he could tell, aside from the one souvenir shop across from the entrance that advertised t-shirts, towels, and tote bags among other items in the windows. The ground beneath his feet was unlike the pavement outside but a winding cobblestone path. Trees, flowers, and bushes were planted sporadically through the area, usually near different sized benches. To Arthur's right there was a Halloween scene painted onto a piece of wood with the faces of the witch, scarecrow, and Frankenstein's monster cutout for children to stick their heads through.

Arthur turned to look at Francis with an arched eyebrow.

"What is this place?"

Francis looked aghast at Arthur's question. "You've never been here?" Scowling, Arthur shook his head. "You live less than thirty minutes away Arthur! I can't believe you never came here." Arthur didn't bother to reply and Francis sighed. "Come along grumpy."

Arthur wanted to yell at Francis as the Frenchman dragged him along but he had to admit he was curious about what the rest of the River Place looked like. Francis walked Arthur past the souvenir shop and turned down a somewhat dark alleyway. The path dipped downhill and it was just steep enough for Arthur to have to look down at his feet as he walked. His hand might have tightened around Francis's slightly but it was just because he was surprised by the sudden decline. Colorful flowers and a thin but tall, wispy tree were on either side of the alley way. A father and two young girls sat along the stone edging of the flower bed at the end of the path. The father was reading a small, maroon book while the two girls took turns blowing at a brightly colored, plastic windmill toy to see who could get it to go the longest. Francis and Arthur exited the alley and paused in front of a curious looking store with a peculiar name. The door to the dark shop was open and the music from inside poured out into the plaza. Arthur was more than surprised when he recognized the sound of bagpipes.

Francis noticed Arthur's confused expression and laughed.

"Whatever you think is going on in that shop is probably correct, along with some things you haven't considered." Without any more elaboration, Francis led the way towards a small stone bridge. The bridge passed over a thin winding river that started a few feet away with a small, man-made waterfall. The bridge led them to another half of the surprisingly large "strip mall". A small stage, it most likely couldn't hold more than two or three people, was situated in the back of a relatively large grassy area. A low, stone wall surrounded most of the grass. People of all ages and ethnicities were sprawled across the grass and draped over the wall. Without any strain Arthur heard conversations held in French, German, Italian, Korean, and Japanese on top of the usual English of the area. Children were playing with hula hoops, marbles, bubbles, and toys Arthur didn't even have a name for.

"What is this place?" Arthur repeated, turning to Francis with an almost awed look on his face. Francis laughed.

"I've heard Gilbert's younger brother call this place ' _Himmel'_  but Gilbert just tends to call it ' _zuhause'_." Francis replied with a knowing smile. "The whole city is modeled after a small German village but it's become almost a refuge for any visitor to the country. A few blocks down is the main road where they have the country flag of some of their most popular visitors lining the opening of a large park."

"It's amazing." Arthur admitted. "I didn't expect to see anything like this when you brought me here."

Francis, who had let go of Arthur's arm when they made it over the bridge to allow the Englishman to have a look around the area, took Arthur's hand once again. He fought a smile and lost when he threaded his fingers through Arthur's and the Englishman made no move to stop him.

"Come on then, let's have lunch."

The small store front Francis led Arthur to was painted a dark maroon Arthur almost mistook as brown. A large window to the left of the open front door allowed you to look in and see a young, blonde woman making something on a strange round pan. Above the window the name of the shop was proclaimed in flowing cursive, twisting itself around a drawing of the Eiffel Tower. Next door was a store promoting its own wine and crystal glasses. Arthur gave Francis an arched look but only got a laugh in reply as he was pulled inside.

A short, Hispanic woman stood behind the counter ringing up a tall woman dressed in a business suit. "Enjoy." She exclaimed happily as the woman thanked her and left. Once the tall woman was gone Arthur and Francis were addressed, or more appropriately Francis was.

" _Bonjour_  Francis." The older woman had a thick accent and a bright smile. Francis gave a warm smile in reply.

" _Hola_." Francis said cheerfully, taking a sweeping bow. The older woman laughed at Francis's theatrics.

" _Señor_ Francis, is this your  _amante_?" The woman inquired with a knowing smile. "Good choice."

Arthur couldn't believe what he was hearing and there was no way he just saw the woman just wink at him.

"No, no I'm sorry but I am  _not_  Francis's  _amante_  we are just friends." Arthur insisted, stepping in front of Francis. Francis smiled, throwing an arm around Arthur's shoulders and giving him a mischievous smile.

"How do you know this wonderful woman here wasn't just asking if we were friends Arthur?"

Arthur sent Francis a dirty look.

"Even if I was somehow clueless enough to not know that ' _amigo_ ' is friend in Spanish," Arthur started before taking a deep breath as if he regretted having to say whatever was coming next "Are you already forgetting that I 'dated' Antonio in college?"

Francis hoped he was imagining his face heating up slightly at the underlying suggestion to what Arthur was saying. Swallowing past the slight lump in his throat, Francis looked back towards the owner of the small shop who, if he wasn't mistaken, was silently laughing at their exchange.

Francis took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "So anyways, lunch." In a quick rush of what sounded like French and Spanish, Francis ordered for Arthur and himself. The order was repeated back to the girl near the window, who had been silently watching the whole exchange, in English but at such a high speed and so chop-full of strange "restaurant lingo" Arthur couldn't make heads or tails of what was said. Arthur gave Francis an apprehensive look.

"What did you order exactly?" Arthur asked. Francis looked down at him with a surprised look that easily morphed itself into an easy going smile.

"Trust me, just this once Arthur, that I know what I'm doing." Francis teased. Arthur rolled his eyes but didn't argue. A few minutes later, their order was ready. Arthur and Francis argued for a few minutes and in the end, with a triumphant grin, Francis paid for him and Arthur.

" _Merci_." Francis bowed his head slightly to the older woman who waved him off with a quiet laugh.

"We will see you again,  _Señor_ Francis. Bring your  _amante_  around more often. He seems like a much nicer fellow than those other boys you spend so much time with." Francis laughed.

"I do believe Gilbert would cry to hear you say that. He loves you quite a lot."

The old woman shook her head, turning to go into the back of the shop as Francis and Arthur headed towards the door.

"He's a man. He loves my food."

Once outside Francis offered Arthur his food. It looked a bit like a flakier version of a pancake that had been folded into a triangle. A pink and white piece of paper had been wrapped around the bottom half of the pastry but Arthur could still feel the heat through it.

"You took me out for crepes?" Arthur asked, sending Francis an arched look when he realized what he was holding. Francis held a hand to his chest.

"Alas, I've been found out." He gasped dramatically, leaning against Arthur. Francis put on the most forlorn expression he could muster. "Whatever will I do now that my plan to woo you with crepes has been found out?"

Arthur hid his short laugh with a scowl, pushing the overdramatic Frenchman off of him. "Git."

Francis threaded his fingers through Arthur's, smiling when the Englishman only blushed as opposed to letting go of his hand, and led him down the stone path.

* * *

Arthur wasn't sure if he was more surprised by just how long it took them to finish the crepes (though between the jokes and half-hearted attempts to steal a bite or two of the other's food he supposed it shouldn't have been  _that_  much of a surprise) or by how much he enjoyed them-or rather how much he enjoyed himself. By the time he and Francis had finished their lunch, he could hardly be bothered to remember why he was in such a bad mood when they first arrived.

Some way or another the two had wandered into the large souvenir and had been having a little too much fun trying on overly large sunglasses or pointing out ridiculous t-shirts when the thought occurred to Arthur that Francis actually had cheered him up. Apparently, Francis had noticed the change as well because he peeked at Arthur from beneath the rim of a large purple hat with a block of cheese on the top.

"So I see it worked."

Arthur immediately banished the smile he knew was on his face and ducked behind a rack of sweatshirts. "Shut up. No it didn't. I don't know what you're talking about."

Francis put the hat back on the rack and turned to follow Arthur when his attention side-tracked. Curiously, Arthur watched Francis go towards a display. A mannequin stood on top of the display with its back to Arthur, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts Arthur thought were entirely too short to cover much of anything. The shorts were red with three yellow stripes down either side and the crest from the Spanish flag on the right. Arthur wasn't quite sure if he should laugh or cringe at the clothing item when Francis reappeared holding a pair of the ridiculously small shorts colored like the French flag.

"What do you think,  _mon ami_? Are they 'me'?"

"Dear God Francis put those down." Arthur said, hiding a laugh behind his hand. "Those are ridiculous looking."

Francis was ignoring his comments in exchange for looking them over. "Do you think they're supposed to be underwear or more like a swimsuit?"

"Francis, please." Arthur was having a hard time masking his laughter when the Frenchman held the said shorts to his hips in an attempt to see how long they were. Francis sent Arthur a mischievous grin.

"They have a pair for you too, Arthur. Do not worry." Arthur could hear the underlying laugh in Francis's words as he reached over and held out a pair of shorts with the flag of the United Kingdom printed on them.

"I cannot believe you. I wouldn't be caught dead in something that short." Arthur informed Francis with a shake of his head. "I  _will_  leave without you." Arthur threatened, turning on his heel and heading for the door. He hadn't taken more than three steps outside when Francis caught up with him, a plastic bag with the store's logo swinging around his wrist. Arthur looked between the bag and Francis a few times and shook his head.

"I don't think I want to know what you bought." Arthur muttered, noting, with a smile and a blush he hopped Francis didn't see, that the Frenchman had taken his hand once again.


	17. Chapter 17

The two men continued wandering through the River Place afterwards, stopping into a different shop every few minutes. They eventually wandered into the "tourist" building at one of the entrances when Arthur noticed a used bookstore. Next door to the bookstore was a smaller souvenir/gift shop, like one you might see in a hospital or hotel. Near the back of the store, a photographer stood with his camera next to a large sign promoting the types of pictures he took. After some convincing, Francis got Arthur to go with him behind the heavy black curtain that led to the photographer's make-shift studio and take pictures with him. Vintage or made-to-look-vintage clothing and props from all different eras were strewn about the studio for the customers to wear and use during their pictures. Francis and Arthur donned World War II-era jackets, caps, and weapons from the French and English armies respectively. Francis exchanged his phone number with the photographer who promised to call when the pictures had been developed and they went on their way.

* * *

Alice couldn't believe it. She couldn't believe Arthur brought her to an unfamiliar flat and then left her alone with this other cat; this strange cat with large blue eyes and a long coat that must be an absolute nightmare to keep clean. How _dare_  he leave her alone after the traumatic experiences she's had in the last few days?

Françoise, on the other hand, was ecstatic to be meeting another feline. She didn't know if Francis's friends Gilbert and Antonio had cats but if they did she had never met them. The last time she had spent any time with another one of her kind was when she and Francis first moved and they spent a short time staying with Francis's friend Mathieu. Madeline was very sweet but she was a much younger kitten. She kept trying to portray to Francis that unlike many of her kind, Françoise was a very social creature but her precious Francis had the very obvious, very unfortunate inability to understand "cat".

Unfortunately for Françoise, Alice didn't seem all the receptive to feline-to-feline interaction. She had curled herself up into a small ball in a corner of the couch, much smaller than Françoise would have thought the somewhat chubby cat could go, and sulked since Arthur and Francis had left. Françoise had a vague understanding that something bad had happened to Arthur and Alice but she didn't know what. If only Francis had listened to her pleas for company-she might know the best approach to comforting an upset cat. Bothered that she couldn't be of any help, Françoise plopped herself down in front of the couch. Perhaps after a nap she would have a clearer perspective.

Alice watched Françoise through one half-open eye and wondered where Francis could possibly have found such a strange, happy feline.

* * *

Arthur isn't really sure how they managed it but one way or another, he and Francis had managed to waste five and a half-nearly six-hours wandering around the small city. They had made their way out of the River Place only to get swept up in the other attractions of the charming city. There were all sorts of little shops lining "main street" boasting homemade fudge, cheese, sausage, and other assorted food items not to mention a large brewery with all sorts of different drinks one could sample during a half-hour tour given through the large building every hour or so.

It was past the time either of the two men normally ate dinner when they ended up near the main restaurants of the area. They both agreed the little samples they'd had with every other visit were hardly filling enough to merit going without an actual meal. Francis led Arthur to the back entrance of a white-painted building that looked more like an old Victorian-style house than a restaurant.

"Gilbert and Ludwig prefer eating at that large place next door." Francis explained with a nod of his head. "But I discovered this little place once on my own and I think I like it more." Francis gestured dramatically with a wave of his arm for Arthur to lead the way inside. Rolling his eyes, Arthur trekked up the creaky, wooden stairs and pushed open the second door of the restaurant's back entrance. Once again he thought of an old Victorian-style home. The slim hallway he stepped into had dark wooden walls. To the left were old fashioned pictures, too dark to see in the dim lighting and cupboard doors, to the right were restrooms and some kind of "employees only" room, all labeled with much too extravagant, faded, gold plating.

Francis took Arthur's hand, despite the fact that they had to walk single file down the strip of creaky, wooden floor, and led the way down the rest of the hall. The rest of the restaurant was slightly brighter than the hall. Overhead were probably twenty or thirty stained glass chandeliers of all different styles. A mix of old fashioned pictures, newspaper clippings about the restaurant itself and the city, and semi-modern posters covered the walls. Small tables were crammed together all over the place, a chaotic attempt at fitting as many people as possible into the small seating area though there were next to no customers currently. At the far end of the restaurant was a bar with stools so high Arthur wondered if he could even sit in one comfortably.

Thankfully he didn't have to worry about it too much as Francis led him to a small table tucked into a dark corner on the left side of the room. Francis sat against the wall on a short booth; Arthur sat to his left on a small wooden chair. The table was bare wood and rocked at an unsettling rate every time either of them moved. Arthur sent Francis a look that he hoped portrayed his worry over Francis's somewhat strange eatery choices but the Frenchman only laughed.

"The décor is a little questionable, I'll admit but the food is exquisite Arthur, trust me."

"You seem to be asking me to do that a lot." Arthur mumbled, picking up the little plastic container from the middle of the table advertising specials as well as upcoming events.

"I'm hoping that you will eventually be able to do so without me having to ask." Francis replied with a small smile.

Before Arthur could address Francis's comment, a waitress came over to take down a drink order.

The waitress dropped off two menus when she left to get their drinks. Arthur hid his face behind his open menu and tried not to dwell too much on what Francis had said to him moments ago. A few minutes later, Arthur hadn't registered anything of what he had read and slowly he lowered his menu. Francis was looking off to the side with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, his menu untouched. Once again Francis's wayward curls were pulled away from his face in a loose ponytail and Arthur found himself wanting to release them from the binds. Instead he cleared his throat to get the blonde's attention.

Francis arched an eyebrow at Arthur, curious as to what the Englishman wanted.

"Francis," Arthur said, taking a deep breath. "I've been thinking and well, we don't actually know much about each other. Sure we've bickered back and forth for four years but what do we actually know about each other?"

The Frenchman opened his mouth to reply but closed it again a second later. Arthur had a point.

The waitress returned with their drinks and looked between the two men.

"Have you figured out what you'd like to eat or do you need a few more minutes?"

"Arthur, do you have anything against pizza?" Francis asked, looking to the Englishman.

"U-Um no I suppose not." Arthur replied.

Francis gave a short order to the waitress who took their menus and promised the food would be out shortly.

The men sat in awkward silence for a few more minutes before Francis cleared his throat.

"My full name is François Clovis Bonnefoy. I was born July 14, 1984 in Paris, France as the only child to Clovis and Clotilde Bonnefoy."

"François Clovis?" Arthur asked in a strained voice a few seconds later. "That's a um…that's really an unfortunate name."

Francis rolled his eyes.

"Of course you're laughing at me." Francis reached across the table and half-heartedly shoved Arthur. He was smiling. "Your turn."

"What? O-oh. My full name is Arthur Edward Kirkland. I was born April 23, 1986 in London, England to Alfred and Emma Kirkland. I have three older brothers and a younger brother." Arthur rattled off, very quickly.

Francis wanted to ask about Arthur's family but the Englishman looked so unbelievably uncomfortable even mentioning them that the Frenchman kept his curiosity to himself.

"How long have you lived in America?" Francis asked instead.

"Twenty-one years." Arthur responded quickly, taking a drink of his water. "How long have you lived here?"

"Four years."

"Really?"

Francis nodded. "I spent a little over six months in Canada before I moved here but I've only been in America for four years."

Arthur sat back in his chair and studied Francis.

"I never would have guessed that." The Frenchman shrugged.

"What else would you like to know?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I don't know; anything. Francis you're twenty-nine years old, that's plenty of time for more than just names to identify you." Arthur had been avoiding looking at Francis directly as he spoke and when he finally did catch the blonde's eye, Francis was smiling.

"My dear Arthur, I never realized you were so interested in learning about me."

Arthur felt his face heat up. "I-I'm not." He sputtered. "But don't you think it's a little strange for two men who know next to nothing about each other to stay with each other even if it's only for a short period of time?"

Francis leaned back against the booth and studied the table top for a few minutes.

"I studied law back in France."

"So you're a lawyer?"

Francis shook his head with a soft smile. "I'm a chef." Arthur wasn't sure why Francis sounded so melancholy over this but he didn't push it. He had a feeling, though he wasn't sure where this absurd thought came from, that Francis would tell Arthur the story when he was ready.

"Here you go." Their waitress interrupted the conversation with a large, steaming pizza and an obscenely large pile of napkins. "Enjoy boys."

* * *

Arthur and Francis returned to Francis's apartment building shortly after eight o'clock that evening. In one hand Francis carried his few purchases; the other was intertwined with Arthur's. They walked up the stairs and through the halls to his door in comfortable silence.

"I have to give it to you, Francis." Arthur muttered. "That pizza was much better than I thought it would be."

Francis smiled knowingly.

The two stopped in front of Francis's closed apartment door and faced each other.

"So that helped, didn't it?" Francis asked. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Yes I suppose you did manage to cheer me up."

Francis stepped closer to Arthur. "Arthur," Francis started. Arthur could feel the Frenchman's warm breath brush over him when he spoke. "I have a confession."

"W-What?" It took a few tries for Arthur to get his question out.

"I don't have a spare bedroom. I figured this didn't bother you last night because we were both so exhausted but…"

Arthur tried to take a step back but didn't get very far with his hand still intertwined with Francis's.

"I cannot believe you, you idiot." Arthur, despite his best try, didn't sound as nearly as angry as he had wanted. Arthur sighed heavily. "So are we going to go inside or not?"

"One last thing." Francis dropped his bags and used his recently freed hand to cup Arthur's cheek. The tips of Francis's long, tampered fingers brushed the ends of Arthur's dirty blonde hair. The Englishman could feel himself blush as Francis studied him.

"Arthur," Francis said in a low voice that did absolutely terrible things to Arthur's mind. "May I kiss you?"

Arthur nearly bit his tongue in surprise. "What?" Arthur stammered. When Francis started to move away, Arthur panicked slightly. "I-I mean sure."

Francis arched an eyebrow at Arthur's response. "Sure?"

"Yes. Yes kiss me, I meant yes. I-"

Francis's kiss was short and sweet; quick. It was hardly much of a kiss at all. At least, that's the reasoning Arthur used to defend kissing Francis and second and possibly third…

…possibly fourth time before they went inside…

* * *

The last thing Francis and Arthur had expected to see was Françoise and Alice curled up together on the couch. The two were burrowed together looking so peaceful, Arthur would almost say they were smiling.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so long I suck at updating anything

Gilbert entered his kitchen, yawning as he stretched to flip on the light. Feliciano Vargas was sitting at his kitchen table nursing a steaming cup of coffee.

“Feli what the _hölle_ are you doing sitting here in the da-” Gilbert bit his tongue he shut his mouth so quickly, almost wishing he could rewind the past ten or fifteen seconds. Feliciano jumped in surprise at the sound of Gilbert’s voice but after a moment’s hesitation he smiled.

“ _Buongiorno_ , Gil.” Feliciano greeted cheerfully. “Sorry for scaring you.”

“Uh no that’s okay. I shouldn’t have yelled like that.” Gilbert replied sheepishly. Unsurprisingly the small Italian wasn’t looking at him but Feliciano’s smile grew at Gilbert’s words. Now feeling slightly awkward in his own kitchen, Gilbert went about making a cup of coffee. Julia hopped onto the counter to watch the process. Gilbert tried to shoo her away but only got her back on the ground when he paused to move her there himself. The short haired feline went to join Feliciano at the table.

“So Feliciano, why’d my dumb _bruder_ leave his cute boyfriend alone in the kitchen this morning?”

“Luddy’s in the shower.” Feliciano replied with a quite giggle as Julia nudged his hand. “We’re planning to go shopping today. We still need a gift for Kiku and Alfred. They’re hard to shop for!” Gilbert grimaced. He still needed a gift for them as well. And there was only about ten more days until the wedding.

A silence fell over the kitchen as the two men dwelled in their own thoughts, the quiet _clinks_ of Gilbert preparing coffee and Feliciano humming softly were the only sounds.

“How is Mattie lately?” Feliciano asked suddenly. Gilbert burned his tongue on the coffee.

“What?” Gilbert turned around to look at Feliciano. The brunette’s brow furrowed and he tilted his head to the side in a very dog-like way.

“I’m sorry Gil, I was just trying to make conversation. And I thought the two of you were um…lovers. So you would most likely know…” Embarrassed, the Italian man lowered his voice until he eventually trailed off. Gilbert rolled his eyes, of course he managed to make Feliciano of all people embarrassed.

With a heavy sigh Gilbert went over to the table and sat across from Feliciano.

“We um…we are. I just didn’t think you knew.” Gilbert admitted quietly. He was glad Feliciano couldn’t see the heavy blush he was sure he had on his face. Julia peeked over the table top and narrowed her red eyes at him. Gilbert looked away from the feline, wondering how a small white cat could make him so uncomfortable.

“Oh. Well I heard Matthew talking with you once when Luddy and I stopped over to get something and there was another time when Luddy came to pick me for a date and he was really flustered about walking in on-”

“Okay, okay that’s enough. I really don’t need to be reminded of _that_.” Gilbert interrupted quickly. Feliciano giggled.

“You’re up early.” Came a teasing voice from the kitchen door. Gilbert turned to see Matthew shuffling in, shirtless; a pair of Gilbert’s flannel pants slung low on his hips, his blonde hair even messier than usual. Ludwig’s grey kitten, Louise, was in the blonde’s arms, distracted by the human’s long hair. Matthew’s eyes widened and he stopped in his tracks when he noticed Feliciano.

“ _Buongiorno_ Matthew.” Feliciano chipped. Matthew’s shoulders visibly relaxed and he smiled. Gilbert felt a strange tightness in his throat.

“Good morning Feliciano, though I think it’s actually afternoon by now. How are you?”

Gilbert stood up as the two started chatting and made up a cup of coffee for Matthew as well. He supposed the Canadian was so relaxed, standing it the kitchen shirtless only because Feliciano couldn’t see him. Dark bruises were scattered over the blonde’s collarbone and neck, mixing with, and in some cases replacing, the slowly fading ones from a few days previous. Gilbert ran his tongue along the bottom of his front teeth. He really should lay off the biting. The blonde made some truly amazing sounds but Gilbert had never realized just how brutal some of those marks looked the following day. Louise peeked over Matthew’s shoulder and watched the albino with a curious look on her face.

“I thought for sure the two of you would have had a gift weeks ago.” Gilbert placed the coffee mug in front of Matthew as he spoke. Matthew looked up to him with a smile that brought the tightness back to Gilbert’s throat all over again.

“Well we had a gift but last week we found out they already had it.” Feliciano hung his head. “They’re really hard to shop for.”

Somewhere in the house a door opened and Feliciano perked up.

“That must be Luddy.” He chimed, rising up from his seat. “Talk to you later Mattie, Gil.” The perky Italian reached for his walking stick with one hand and waved good-bye with the other. Louise jumped from Matthew’s arms and followed after the Italian and Julia. Gilbert took his coffee mug to the sink once he was out of the room.

Gilbert slid into Feliciano’s recently vacated seat with a heavy sigh.

“He knows.”

Matthew arched a thin, blonde brow waiting for elaboration.

Gilbert swallowed thickly. “About us.”

“Well…I suppose he is awfully perceptive.” Matthew replied calmly.

“This doesn’t bother you?” Gilbert demanded.

“It doesn’t _surprise_ me.” Matthew clarified. He was being oddly cold about the whole thing. Gilbert was getting a terrible feeling in his stomach.

Matthew finished his coffee in silence.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

Once alone, Gilbert wondered if his kitchen was always this large.

* * *

About twenty minutes later, Gilbert made his way into his bedroom. Matthew was sitting on his bed. The blonde’s hair was darker than normal and mused about his head-still wet. He was dressed in a pair of faded jeans. In one hand he held a t-shirt, in the other he held his cellphone to his ear. He was smiling.

“No, no that would be great Arthur. Really.” Matthew was saying. Gilbert scowled. He’d been hearing an awful lot about this “Arthur” guy and he had no idea who he was or how Mattie knew him.

“Arthur” said something else over the line that made Matthew pause. Mattie started chewing on his bottom lip, thinking.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.” He finally replied. “Arthur” said something else and Mattie’s easy smile returned. “Alright, good-bye Arthur. Talk to you later.”

The two were silent for a few seconds after Matthew hung up his phone. Finally, Matthew turned to face Gilbert.

“Hey Gil, how does Francis feel about dogs?”

* * *

Arthur wandered into Francis’s kitchen after getting dressed to see the Frenchman at the stove cooking. A song Arthur assumed was sung in French was playing softly from the radio in the corner. Alice and Françoise were both sitting at Francis’s feet, looking up at him as if expecting something.

“What in the world are you cooking?” Arthur asked as a greeting. Alice glanced at him briefly before turning her attention back to the stove. Francis smiled at him.

“Good morning Arthur. Did you sleep well?” Arthur looked away, hoping he imagined the heat in his cheeks. He definitely couldn’t tell Francis he couldn’t remember the last time he had slept so well. There was no way he could bring himself to say it to him.

“I was fine.” He grumbled.

After a few minutes, Arthur sat down at Francis’s island and watched the Frenchman work. Francis vaguely reminded Arthur of a well-practiced dancer. He seemed to know every move he was going to make before it happened and therefore moved gracefully through the kitchen without a pause in his movements.

Whatever he was making, it smelled delicious.

A few moments later, Francis had finished cooking and put the food into contains that he then stored in the fridge. When he caught Arthur’s eye he smiled.

“I have to work tonight. I thought I should make something for you to eat since I don’t want you damaging any of my pans trying to make something yourself.”

“I am not _that_ bad!” Arthur scowled. Francis made his way around the island and placed a kiss on Arthur’s cheek.

“Sure, _cher_ ; whatever you say.” Arthur half-heartedly elbowed Francis’s side. Francis smiled down at the grumpy Englishman before his wall clock caught his eye. Francis sighed heavily and placed his chin on the top of Arthur’s head. He ignored the blonde’s grumbling. “I need to leave.” Arthur stopped his squirming and Francis moved away, starting a search for his coat.

“I have quite a few errands to run and only two hours until I need to be into work.” Francis explained, answering Arthur’s unvoiced question.

Francis disappeared from the room for a few seconds and when he reappeared his shoes and coat were on.

Francis stopped next to Arthur once more and gave the Englishman a small smile. “This is for you.”

A silver key was grasped in Francis’s outstretched hand. Curious, Arthur took them from the blonde.

“It’s a spare key to my apartment. I just figured since you’re staying for a while and our schedules don’t exactly match up-”

“Thank you Francis.” Arthur gave a small smile.

The Frenchman nodded, glancing at his wall clock once more. “I really need to go.” He muttered.

Neither blonde moved.

“Oh for heaven’s sake.” Arthur finally scowled, grabbed the lapels of Francis’s open coat and, pulling the Frenchman closer, kissed him.

“I thought for sure I’d have to ask again.” Francis muttered, against Arthur’s mouth. Arthur pushed him away.

“At the rate you were moving if I had waited for that you would have been late.”

“So thoughtful, _mon cher_. “ Francis replied with a teasing smile. When it looked like Arthur was going to scowl at him again, Francis moved to the door. “ _À cet après-midi._ Try not to miss me too much Arthur!”

Arthur laid his forehead against the cool marble of the counter once Francis was gone. His face still felt warm from the kiss. “What is wrong with me?” Arthur muttered, tracing the grooves of the key Francis had given him. “I’m acting like I’m new to this or something.”

On the other side of the room, Alice and Françoise shared a look.

* * *

“First unheard message from: Wednesday, August 28th, 2013. 12:30 p.m.”

“Arthur, it’s Eduard from the office. You heard, didn’t you? About the fire? What do you think we’ll do now?”

“Second unheard message from: Thursday, August 29th, 2013. 6:30 a.m.”

“Mr. Kirkland, you should be receiving a phone call within the next day or two with the address of a temporary building we will use until the future of our current building is decided. Expect to be back at work by Monday.”  

“End of messages.”

Arthur made a face as he turned off his answering machine. He wasn’t sure what he had thought would happen to the company after the fire but he hadn’t expected them to find a temporary building. What good would the building even do if most of their files, equipment, and furniture had burned in the fire anyway? Arthur rubbed his temple, hoping he was just imagining what felt like a headache forming there.

Arthur picked up the mail he had left on the bedside table and left his room. As he walked back to the front (newly replaced) door, Arthur flipped through the mail. In the middle of the pile was the invitation to Alfred and Kiku’s wedding. The plain white envelope didn’t reveal that firsthand but Arthur could easily recognize Alfred’s large print and figured it couldn’t be anything else.  Arthur flipped the envelope over to open it.

_“Oh also, the invite is for you and your plus one.”_

The hurried thought Alfred had tacked onto his message from Monday came back to Arthur and he pulled his hand away from the invitation like it was going to bite him. Perhaps opening the invitation could wait a while. He really didn’t want to think about a “plus one”. Did he _have_ to bring a plus one? Who would he even bring?

Francis came to mind almost immediately after that thought crossed his mind. Arthur shook his head and left his apartment, closing the door firmly behind him. He would worry about this later. Right now he was going for a walk.

* * *

Arthur found himself in Old Town an hour later. It was one of the poorer parts of town. The little mom-n’-pop shops and restaurants that sprinkled the area had lost most of their business to the chain restaurants and the large shopping  mall that had showed up on the other side of the city years ago but they were still struggling along. Almost all of the buildings in the area were the original buildings that had been built in the lots and the (some still cobbled) streets were lit by old fashioned light posts.

Arthur stopped for lunch in one of the less populated restaurants. He wasn’t really looking for anything in particular as he wandered the streets afterwards. He was just enjoying the fading nice weather and his “day off”. However, he ended up finding something at the end of his walk.

There was a closed down auto repair shop at the end of the street; something Arthur had made his way past hundreds of times before. Today the normally empty parking lot caught his eye. There was a large cardboard box near the side of the building with a long rope trailing out of the box where it was tied to a broken water meter. Curious, Arthur crossed the street to investigate the box. An old towel, covered in holes and some kind of dark stains was thrown over the top. Whatever was hidden under it was moving. Cautiously, Arthur pulled back the towel. A dog looked up at him. More accurately, a puppy looked up at him. Most of the puppy’s short coat was dark brown but its snout and around one eye was black. It also had a small spot of white on its chest and one front paw. The puppy cocked its head at Arthur, taking in his features wearily. After a few moments, it wagged its tail faintly.

“Hello there.” Arthur greeted quietly, lowering himself to sit on the ground next to the box. The puppy’s ears perked up when he spoke but one stayed mostly bent. In one corner of the box, the puppy had made a mess and it made Arthur wonder just how long it had been in the box.

Arthur debated with himself for a few minutes before he reached down to pet the puppy. Its tail moved a little faster and it struggled to get to its feet. Despite himself, Arthur smiled as the puppy licked his hand. Arthur picked the puppy up out of the box and placed it on the ground in front of him. The canine was surprisingly light. The rope that had been tied to the broken meter was also tied loosely around the puppy’s neck. It had worn down the fur around the puppy’s neck and Arthur could see bits of bright pink skin.

The puppy seemed content to let Arthur pet him gently until his nose picked up on something. Arthur looked over at the small Styrofoam box containing the remains of his lunch. Well it wasn’t like he needed them for dinner. Though it was a bit of a hassle once the puppy realized that it was in fact food that it was smelling, Arthur managed to pull apart the chicken from his sandwich into small pieces and feed them, one by one, to the eager canine. The puppy promptly fell asleep in his lap when the chicken ran out. Arthur found himself smiling as he gently rubbed the puppy’s head.

“You’re just like Alfred.”

 _Alfred_.

Arthur was already pretty certain he was going to take the dog with him. He didn’t really need the added responsibility of taking care of and training a young puppy but a cute little puppy like this one would even do better in a shelter than it would out in this worn down box. But Alfred. Now that was an idea. For as long as Arthur had known the hyperactive blonde, Alfred had loved dogs but his father had been allergic and even after the divorce, Matthew had lived with the boys’ mother Alfred with their father.

Trying not to move too much and disturb the slumbering puppy, Arthur pulled a small flip phone from his pocket. Francis had given it to him last night after they got home and admitted he had purchased it for Arthur after the Englishman had revealed he didn’t have a mobile phone. Arthur hadn’t given the new number to any one yet but he had stored a few contacts into the phone’s directory.

He chose a name and put the phone to his ear. After three rings his call was answered.

“Hello?”

“Matthew, I apologize, it’s Arthur.” He explained. The puppy twitched in its sleep.

“Oh Arthur. Hello…Did you get a new number?” There was some rustling on Matthew’s line.

“Um…sort of.” Arthur replied quickly. “I um…Does Alfred have a dog?”

Matthew was quite for a few minutes.

“Uh no, no he doesn’t. Why?”

Arthur bit his bottom lip as the puppy rolled over.

“I think I might have just found Alfred’s wedding gift.”

After a few minutes Arthur realized the muffled noise he was hearing was Matthew laughing on the other line.

“Is that a bad idea?” Arthur voiced nervously.

“No, no that would be great Arthur. Really. Alfred would love that.”

Arthur sighed in relief. Then another thought came to him.

“I am um…staying with a friend right now. If I take this puppy with me…well I don’t know if he is ‘okay’ with dogs.” Arthur admitted. Matthew was silent, thinking over what Arthur said.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.” Matthew reassured him. The Canadian man sounded strangely confident.

“I-All right. Thank you for your help Matthew. Good-bye.”

 “Alright, good-bye Arthur. Talk to you later.”

Arthur hung up his phone, sliding the grey device back into his pocket.

“Alright little guy. Let’s see how this goes.”

* * *

Francis was in the middle of his cigarette break when he heard a commotion inside the kitchen. With a heavy sigh he put his cigarette out and went in. There are some new employees and he didn’t quite yet trust them alone.

When he got inside he discovered…absolutely nothing wrong.

“What was that commotion just a moment ago about?” Francis asked a young waiter. The young man’s cheeks darkened slightly and he looked away from him.

“Um, Gilbert is here with a young woman.” He told him, moving away quickly. Francis looked up at the clock, noting he still had five minutes in his break.

Francis was a bit disappointed once he stepped out of the kitchen to see Gilbert with Elizabeta. He had been hoping to finally see Gilbert’s mysterious “Birdie”. Of course, Gilbert was smarter than that. If he wanted to keep his lover a secret, he certainly wouldn’t bring her out to the restaurant he and Francis worked at together.

“ _Bonjour_.” Francis made his way to their table anyways and greeted them both with a wide smile. “Have you been taken care of yet?”

“Franny, what are you doing out of the kitchen?” Gilbert asked with a laugh. Elizabeta uttered a quiet hello and avoided eye contact with him. Elizabeta hadn’t really liked Francis ever since he had made some very obvious attempts at seducing Roderich at a Christmas party a few years ago. Francis had considered that Roderich probably wouldn’t like the fact that his wife was currently out on a date with her best friend but it was never his place to get in the middle of marital issues.

“Actually there was a commotion about you being here and I had to come see for myself what beautiful young woman had caused such a commotion with the staff.” Francis replied. Elizabeta refused to look at him. Gilbert rolled his eyes.

“Get back to the kitchen you lazy ass.” Gilbert replied with a laugh. They both knew who would be pegged as the “lazy ass” between the two of them if anyone else was speaking.

“Please enjoy your meal and if there are any problems, do not be afraid to come right to me with them.” Francis rattled off as he took his leave.

“Hey Franny,” Gilbert called before Francis was even to the next table. “How do you feel about dogs?”

* * *

“No wait! Alfred!”

Francis paused in his door way as a small brown dog ran into his view and froze in place. Arthur appeared a moment later.

“Oh Francis. You’re home.”

“You have a dog.” Francis replied. They could both play the point-out-the-obvious game.

“Um…no. Well yes but he’s not really mine?” Arthur sighed. “I was going to call you and ask but I wasn’t sure when your breaks were and I didn’t want to bother you.” He admitted. The dog was still staring up at Francis with wide eyes.

“Why do you have a dog?” Francis hadn’t moved from his place in the doorway.

“Um…I have a wedding to go to next Sunday.” Arthur started.

“Is it a dog wedding?”

“What? No of course not. This is the um…the wedding gift.” Arthur sighed. “I can find somewhere else to keep him until the wedding if you don’t like dogs but I wasn’t sure what to do with him for tonight.”

“Is he even house trained? He doesn’t look very old.” Francis was obviously weary of the dog.

“Probably not but he has been really good for me so far.” Arthur admitted. Francis finally looked away from the canine to Arthur. The Englishman had his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows and the first few buttons undone. His hair was a bit messier than usual. He also looked really worried. Francis nearly groaned. That worried expression was really ruining the image that would otherwise be really great to come home to.

“I am really not a big fan of dogs,” Francis admitted, sliding off his coat and hanging it up. “But I suppose I can handle a week.”

Arthur practically beamed at him. “Thank you Francis really. And it will most likely only be a few days-just until my water has been fixed-so you won’t even have to deal with him a week.”

Francis smiled, only because Arthur was smiling at him not because the puppy had started wagging its tail like it knew he was allowing its presence in his apartment, and moved away from his door. Arthur joined him on the couch a moment later. Françoise and Alice were curled up together on his arm chair and the puppy laid down in front of it. When Francis arched an eyebrow at the sight Arthur shrugged.

“They seem to like him.”

“So what are you calling it?”

Arthur blushed and looked away. “Alfred. That’s just who he reminded me of.”

“Your family friend who had been in your apartment with the robber?” Francis asked. Arthur nodded.

“Yes that’s the one.”

A silence fell over the two of them.

Francis yawned and dropped his head onto Arthur’s shoulder.

“It’s nice to have someone to come home to, don’t you think?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm taking a poll. What color eyes should "Alfred" have? I really can't decide.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for this obscene wait

Francis straightened from returning the juice carton to the fridge and paused. A wedding invitation was stuck to the front of the appliance with a small blue magnet. He’d nearly forgotten about it. His gift for the couple was in the hall closet still in the packaging it had arrived in. There was one part of the invitation he hadn’t bothered with and was quickly running out of time to deal with: His plus one.

“Join us September 8, 2013.” Francis read aloud, pulling the small laminated card off the fridge.

 _“I have a wedding next Sunday.”_ Arthur had told him that yesterday when he got home from work. So the Englishman was out of the question unless…

“Alfred F. Jones and Kiku Honda…”  Francis turned on his heel and went to find his temporary roommate.

“Arthur!” Francis called, finally finding the blond in the bathroom, bent over the bathtub where he was attempting to bathe the little monster he had found yesterday. This morning the puppy had scared Francis as he was making breakfast and got a piece of toast, covered in jelly, dropped on his head. “Arthur, when did you say that wedding was?”

“Next Sunday. September 8th I believe.” Arthur replied. He looked up from what he was doing. “Why?”

“Who’s getting married exactly?” Francis asked, leaning against the door frame. Arthur stood to his full height and wiped his hands off on the towel he had pulled out for Alfred.

“The family friend I had mentioned to you, Alfred, and his fiancé, Kiku.” Arthur just barely caught Alfred as he tried to jump out of the tub. Francis couldn’t help but smile as he watched the blond wrestle the small dog back into the water-arguing with the canine every time he made some kind of noise of protest.

“Who are you taking as your plus one?”

Arthur stiffened. His face was mostly hidden from Francis by the shower curtain but Alfred could see the horror stricken expression he wore and he licked Arthur’s chin in an attempt to comfort him.

“W-What are you talking about Francis?” Arthur stuttered. The Frenchman grinned.

“Well I realized, you need a plus one for the wedding and I need a plus one for the wedding so we could go find two separate people to ask to this special occasion or we could simply go together.”

“Francis,”

“So what do you say, _mon ami_ ,” Francis moved away from the door, leaning down to be face to face with Arthur. “Will you be my plus one?”

“…You were invited to Alfred’s wedding?”

Francis dropped his head.

“Arthur.” He sighed heavily. “You-”

“Right, right I’m sorry Francis. I would…” Arthur looked towards the tile wall of the shower, blushing. “I would love to be your plus one.”

Francis reached out to wipe some of the stray bubbles off Arthur’s cheek and leave a small kiss in their place.

“ _Merveilleux.”_

* * *

“Francis, how _do_ you know Alfred and Kiku?” Arthur demanded later that afternoon. He was sitting on the floor in the living room with his back against Francis’s couch as he played with Alfred. Francis, Alice, and Françoise were sprawled across the couch, watching the two of them.

“I met Alfred through Mathieu. When Mathieu was in high school he spent a year in France as an exchange student and he lived with my family. When I left France I lived with him for close to a year. After I moved to the United States I met Gilbert and Toni and through them Ludwig, Feli, Lovino, and Kiku.”

Arthur paused as a horrible realization washed over him.

“You know, Matthew? Matthew Williams?”

“… _Oui_.” Francis arched a brow at Arthur. “Arthur, are you alright?”

Arthur currently had his burning face buried in Alfred’s fur. He was ignoring the small dog’s confused whimpers.

“Arthur?” Francis sat up and laid a hand on the Englishman’s shoulder. “Arthur are you-?”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me you and Matthew knew each other?” Arthur demanded.

“Why is it such a big deal?” Francis was beginning to get genuinely worried.

“He probably knew it was you the whole time.” Arthur muttered. “That little weasel.”

“Arthur, honestly what in the world are you talking about?”

Arthur stood up and handed Alfred to Francis. “I think I need a moment by myself.” He said quietly and left the room.

Alfred yipped quietly, wagging his tail. Francis scowled.

“Quit being cute.”

* * *

“Francis?” Matthew answered his phone with a concerned tone to his voice. “What’s going on?”

Alfred paused their movie and looked at his brother. Matthew knew they had a “No-Phones-During-Bro-Movie-Nights” rule.   Matthew was quietly ignoring the pointed look his brother was giving him as Francis spoke.

“Have you been playing matchmaker all this time, Mathieu?” Francis accused. Matthew might have been seriously worried about what the Frenchman was talking about if it wasn’t for the laughter he could hear in the background.

“Francis I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Arthur and I just discovered our shared confidant.” Francis informed him. Matthew could hear muffled barking in the background shortly followed by Arthur shushing the animal and he smiled.

“I hadn’t started out like that but things are obviously working out so I suppose I could take credit it for it.” He replied. Alfred had started kneading his leg with his socked feet impatiently.

“I taught you well, little one.” Francis finally said and Matthew could hear the smile in his words. “Tell your brother Arthur and I found our ‘plus ones’ and I am deeply sorry for interrupting your movie night.” Francis added, just as Alfred whined loudly.

“I will. Have a good night Francis, and tell Arthur I said hello.” Matthew promised before he hung up his cell.

Alfred was pouting.

“Arthur and Francis will be each other’s ‘plus one’ and Francis apologizes for interrupting movie night.” Matthew told his brother, hoping that would stop the blond from making him do something to make up for answering a phone during movie night. Alfred still looked ready to complain until what Matthew said caught up with him.

“Wait Arthur, as in _our Arthur_ is going to the wedding with your Francis?” Alfred asked in disbelief. Matthew nodded, readjusting himself on the couch and trying to take back the space Alfred had claimed when Matthew answered his phone. Alfred snorted, tossing his head back and looking to the ceiling. “Damn I knew Arthur was gayer than the two of us put together but I did not expect him to go for Francis.” Matthew tried not to snicker.

“Alfred neither of us is actually _gay_.” Matthew pointed out. “We’re just not…straight.”

“Well I’m then pretty sure Arthur is _definitely_ gayer than the two of us put together. And I still did not expect him and Francis. Are you sure the two of them aren’t just going to kill each other?”

Matthew shrugged. “I don’t even think they’re quite sure about that yet.”

Alfred shook his head. “Man this wedding will certainly be interesting.” He picked up the remote to start the movie once again but stopped and looked back at Matthew at the last minute. “Give it up.” He ordered, holding out his other hand.

“What?”

“Your phone.” Alfred insisted. “You broke the no phone rule so you lose it for tonight.”

Matthew looked down at the small device with a sour expression. A small orange five was blinking next to the envelope on the front screen reminding him of his unread text messages-all from Gilbert. Perhaps giving his phone to his brother would be beneficial. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Matthew dropped the cell into Alfred’s outstretched hand. Almost immediately it vibrated with the arrival of another text. Matthew knew Alfred had seen the name as he slid the phone into his pants pocket but, for once, his brother didn’t say anything. Alfred propped his feet up on Matthew’s lap and started the movie once again.

Matthew found himself smiling as he looked back to the television. Leave it to Alfred to be more mature about this whole situation than Matthew ever could have expected.

* * *

Feliciano, Ludwig, and Kiku were gathered in Feliciano’s living room in the dark. Feliciano was curled up against Ludwig and snuggled beneath a blanket. Kiku sat on the other side of him on the large couch.

“Can you believe in just a little more than a week, Kiku’s going to be married?” Feliciano voiced to the room. A movie was on but the volume was turned down so low it was nearly impossible to hear it. The small Japanese man next to him blushed.

“I-It is still a-a little hard to wrap my mind around.” Kiku admitted, shifting in place. Despite the truthfulness to his words, Kiku had to wonder when the novelty of his impending marriage would wear off for Feliciano who couldn’t seem to stop talking about it since Alfred proposed over a year ago.

Feliciano sighed heavily. “Kiku’s so lucky, getting to marry his true love.” The blind man had started tracing small patterns onto his boyfriend’s chest. “Luddy, we should get married.”

“Your family forbid us from marrying.” Ludwig replied stiffly. “Or do you not remember their very vivid threats?”

“We could elope. No one has to know. That’s practically what Kiku and Alfred are doing, minus the reception.” Feliciano argued. “Isn’t that right, Kiku?”

“I-I suppose.” Kiku agreed.

“Why are you getting married like that?” Feliciano asked suddenly. “If I _could_ marry Luddy, I would want everyone in the world to know.”

“I did not want a large service and A-Alfred told me that ‘as long as I married him, we could get married i-in a barn.’ H-However I k-knew he always loved large parties so we agreed on a-a small service and a l-large reception.” Kiku admitted quietly.

After a minute or so of searching, Feliciano found Kiku’s hand and smiled softly.

“We’ll still stay like this.” Feliciano promised. “Even if everyone gets married we’ll still stay like this, right?”

Ludwig took Feliciano’s free hand and Kiku placed his other hand on top of Feli’s.

“Of course we will.” Ludwig agreed with a stiff nod. Kiku nodded as well.

“ _H-Hai_ , of course.”

Kiku could have sworn he saw tears forming in Feliciano’s eyes when the Italian man pulled away from Ludwig to throw his arms around Kiku.

“Maybe sometimes Alfred can join our movie nights after you get married!” Kiku noticed a new wetness on his shoulder. Feliciano was definitely crying.

“I-I’m sure A-Alfred would like that very much, F-Feliciano.” He meant the words and also hoped to console his friend with the statement.

“Join our hug, Ludwig.” Feliciano demanded a few minutes later.

“W-what?”

Feliciano reached behind him and grabbed a fistful of the German man’s shirt, yanking him closer to the two. “Join our group hug.”

Kiku felt Ludwig nervously reach around the two of them and join the hug. He found himself smiling, sitting their embraced by his closest friends. He hadn’t realized how nervous the impending wedding was really making him. Feliciano of course caught on immediately and found a way to ease his mind for a while.

* * *

Arthur was nearly asleep when he felt an arm snake around his waist. A moment later, he felt Francis nuzzle close to his neck. Immediately goose bumps broke out across his skin.

“Francis, what are you doing?” Arthur demanded quietly. For a while there was nothing but silence in the room. A car drove past the building outside and a dog barked in the distance. “Francis,”

“Mm, Arthur.” Francis cooed quietly. The Frenchman pulled Arthur closer to him. Arthur realized very quickly that while Francis was most likely asleep, a small part of him wasn’t.

Almost immediately Francis’s grip loosened but he did not remove his arm from around Arthur. His warm breath fell against Arthur’s bare neck in small puffs.

Arthur sighed heavily, trying not to make much noise as he shifted ever so slightly away from Francis. This was going to be a longer night that he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can anyone say "filler chapter"?


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We can pretend this was posted on the 13th right? Therefore making it only a month since the last update? We can pretend. We're all friends here, right?

It was nearing one in the afternoon and Arthur still had yet to see Francis. He was fairly certain-actually he was almost completely certain that the Frenchman was home as he couldn’t fathom another reason for obnoxiously loud music to be coming from the back room of Francis’s flat if Francis himself was not there. However the fact that the Frenchman had been in there all day worried Arthur a bit.

Arthur had woken up around seven o’clock that morning and Francis had already locked himself away in the backroom. Arthur made himself his usual breakfast of toast and tea, cleaned up, and left the flat with Alfred. They wound up at a near-by park where they walked for an hour or so and Alfred got to play fetch with some children for a few minutes. Arthur checked in on his flat and took down the address his boss left for their temporary office building. Arthur and Alfred arrived back at Francis’s flat around ten o’clock and Francis was still hidden away. At first, Arthur had thought nothing of it but now, three hours later-he found himself growing concerned.

 “I don’t want to bother him,” Arthur admitted to Alice. “But he’s been in there a long time. Has he even eaten anything today?” Alice had the courtesy to stay in the kitchen long enough for Arthur to finish voicing his worries. Afterwards however, she quickly retreated to the bedroom for a nap. Arthur was the only human she had ever understood-and she was too old to try and learn Francis just to ease Arthur’s nerves. Alfred was lying in the kitchen, happily chewing on a small toy Arthur had picked up for him-completely undisturbed by Arthur’s pacing.

“Oh Françoise how I wished you could actually tell me if this was normal for Francis.” Arthur muttered to the feline before he took a book into the living room and tried to ignore the loud music.

Around four o’clock, Arthur gave up trying to read and went to the kitchen once again. He would make dinner and then get Francis out of the room whether the Frenchman wanted to come or not. He hadn’t come out all day and there was no way that kind of behavior was healthy. Arthur sighed, hanging his head. If someone had told Arthur in a week he would end up genuinely worrying about Francis, he never would have believed them.

“Now is not the time to wonder if you’ve been getting soft.” Arthur told himself before he got to work. Mostly because he was afraid of the answer.

After taking a quick inventory of the ingredients in the kitchen, Arthur thought an improvised cawl might be a good choice for dinner-especially because it was still rather early in the day to eat. Arthur carefully cut up and prepared the different vegetables he needed, covered them and returned them to the fridge until he needed them again. Then he went to look for the appropriate type of pot, only to find nothing of the sort. Arthur couldn’t believe it. There was no way someone like Francis, who was a chef for God’s sake, wouldn’t have such a simple thing. However, after looking through every cupboard in the kitchen-Arthur had to admit that there wasn’t anything the proper size.

Disgruntled, and a bit embarrassed, Arthur made his way to the back room. The music was as loud as ever. Not totally sure Francis would even hear him, Arthur knocked on the door a few times. Surprisingly, after a few seconds, the music volume lowered and the door opened. Francis looked surprised to see Arthur. A stripe of green paint was on his cheek.

“Arthur what are you-” Suddenly Francis seemed to realize the answer to whatever his question was because his cheeks flushed a bit, as if he was embarrassed. “What time is it?”

“It is nearing four thirty.” Arthur answered. “I was going to try and prepare cawl, granted with a few improvised ingredients, but I could not find the proper type of stock pot in your kitchen.”

“I have a larger one in the hall closet.” Francis answered immediately. He held up a finger. “One moment.” Francis shut the door once again. Arthur waited, a bit confused, as the music was turned off and some things were moved around inside the room. When Francis came back to the door, he was holding a few paintbrushes and a cup, so covered in different paint splotches; Arthur wasn’t quite sure what the original color was supposed to be. “Let me wash these off in the bathroom and then I can get that out for you.”

“Oh Francis I’m completely capable of finding a pot you don’t have to-” Arthur called after Francis, only to be cut off by a door shutting farther into the flat. Arthur sighed but followed after Francis. It was probably best that Francis helped him after all.

Francis met Arthur at the hall closet. Arthur grimaced when Francis opened the door. The closet was a mess of things haphazardly thrown in. Plastic bags full of unidentifiable things were scattered throughout the mess.

“Francis…”

“I haven’t cleaned this out in a while…” Francis admitted, trying to brush off Arthur’s look. “But it should not be hard to find the pot, do not worry.” He promised.

Thirty minutes later, the two of them had made a huge mess of Francis’s hallway and the elusive stock pot was nowhere to be found.

“Are you sure you have one?” Arthur asked, pushing aside a few plastic bags to sit against the wall. Francis sat in front of the closet and sighed.

“I am sure I do. I used it not too long ago. But I have no idea where it went.” Suddenly his eyes brightened and Francis jumped to his feet, reaching deep into the closet. A book of some kind shifted from where it had been wedged as Francis pulled on something near the back of the closet and fell to the ground. With a flourish, Francis pulled out a shoe.

Catching a glimpse of the metallic bottom of the shoe that Francis must have thought was the pot, Arthur smirked.

“I had no idea you were a tap dancer, Francis.”

Francis looked completely baffled. “I’m not. I have no idea where this came from.”

Shaking his head at the Frenchman, Arthur picked up the fallen book and flipped it over. ‘PHOTOS’ was printed on the front.

“I never pegged you as such a pack rat, Francis.” Arthur commented. Francis slumped to the ground next to him.

“I wish I had a defense, _cher_ , I really do.” Francis noticed the photo album as Arthur opened it. “Oh my.”

The first picture was of Francis and his parents. Francis couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen years old but his parents hardly looked like they had changed at all from the time they took the picture to the last time he saw them. Arthur said nothing about the picture.

The first ten or so pages of the book were filled with pictures Francis had taken on the extensive amount of trips the family had taken due to his father’s business. Exotic buildings and sights were scattered in the photographs.

The next few pages boasted a few friends Francis had grown up with in France that he hadn’t spoken to in years and another with a younger Francis and Matthew smiling with each other. Arthur smiled at those pictures.

Francis inhaled sharply when Arthur turned the page. The first picture depicted a young girl with short blonde curls and bright eyes smiling into the camera. The page was filled with similar shots, some candid and some that the girl was oblivious to being the subject of.

The final picture was of Francis and the girl dancing in some type of stone plaza against a rosy sunset.

“She is beautiful.” Arthur commented quietly. “Who is she?”

Francis had a faraway look in his eyes as he responded. “My fiancée.”

A horrible feeling came over Arthur. He had to have heard him wrong.

“Or I suppose I should say she was.”

 _Is it wrong to feel relieved?_ Arthur wondered to himself.

“What happened?”

Francis ran a hand over his face. “She was very young and very sick.” He whispered. “Very sick for a very long time. There was not much anyone could do for her.” Francis dropped his hands into his lap and his head onto Arthur’s shoulder. “The doctors were all astonished she lived as long as she did”

Arthur swallowed thickly. “And how long was that?”

“Nineteen years.”

“I’m so sorry, Francis.” Arthur said quietly. “What was her name?”

“Jeanne.” Francis sighed. “She was four years younger than I. And I loved her very much. I asked her to marry me the night before she died. She said yes. In the morning she was gone.”

Arthur looked away. He could not imagine how Francis must feel.

The two sat in silence, mulling over their own thoughts for a few minutes. Something inside the closet shifted and fell from an upper shelf, landing then on a box discarded on the floor. Arthur looked over at the closet door when he noticed something making an odd noise.

“Francis, is that box-”

Francis reached out to kick the box, stopping it from vibrating any longer.

“Never mind that.” Francis said quickly, getting to his feet. “I for one have not eaten all day so I will change into something a little cleaner and then we can go out tonight.”

“That’s not necessary, Francis.” Arthur replied, rising from the floor as well.

Francis looked down at his colorful paint smock. “I am really not comfortable going out in public wearing this.” He commented. Arthur glared at him.

“You know as well as I do that that is not what I meant.”

Grinning, Francis leaned over to kiss Arthur’s cheek. “I know, _mon ami_ , but I just can’t help myself. You are much too fun to tease.” Francis ran his hand down Arthur’s arm to squeeze Arthur’s free hand. His other hand still held the photo album. “I won’t be long.”

Once Francis had gone into his bedroom to change, Arthur was left alone with the mess they had made of the closet’s contents. Knowing Francis, Arthur figured he had at least twenty minutes to clean up the mess. 

* * *

Francis sighed heavily as he pulled his paint smock over his head. He had forgotten about the photo album in his closet. Going down memory lane to his life in France with Arthur riding passenger was certainly not how Francis had intended on finishing this evening. Not when it had been off to such a great start with a bout of inspiration that woke him up at nearly six o’clock in the morning and had kept him going all day. He just prayed a nice dinner date with Arthur could mend the rift in his day.

It had been six years since Jeanne had passed away and Francis was positive that he had moved on from the young woman. He still loved her of course-long before Francis was romantically involved with Jeanne he had loved her as a good friend-and you cannot simply stop loving someone you cared for, for so long. But he had moved on.

Remember how terribly prematurely Jeanne was taken from the world however, still hurt more than he would like to admit. 

* * *

“Arthur,” Francis said in surprise, catching the Englishman’s attention. “You didn’t have to do this.”

While Francis had been getting dressed, Arthur had cleaned up nearly everything they had torn from the closet-and organized most of what he had returned for that matter. Arthur stood up and brushed off some imaginary dust from his trousers.

“Well I was the one who wanted to look for the pot so really it was no trouble. Besides, it really did need something.”

Francis laughed, offering Arthur his arm. “Well I will not argue with that. Now come along, I’m starving.”

Rolling his eyes, Arthur threaded his arm through Francis’s and allowed himself to be led to the door. “Do you have an idea of where you would like to go?”

Francis thought for a moment. “Do you mind a bit of a drive?”

* * *

Francis took Arthur to a city about half an hour away but he did not stop in the bustling downtown. Farther on, where older brick buildings still stood tall and old fashioned cast iron lamp posts marked each street corner, a rive cut through the city. A small river-front restaurant with outside seating allowing a wonderful view of the river and suspension bridge is where Francis finally stopped the car.

“It might not look like much on the outside,” Francis admitted “But the food is exquisite.”

Arthur allowed his hand to be taken and he stepped closer to the blond Frenchman. “I’m learning to trust your judgment when it comes to matters of the stomach.”

“What about other matters?” Francis pushed gently.

“I haven’t decided yet.” 

* * *

Dinner, which was as delicious as predicted, ended around six o’clock. Arthur and Francis then wandered in and out of some nearby antique shops. When they did not find anything that caught their eye after three tries, Francis directed them back towards the restaurant.

“An ice cream shop?” Arthur asked incredulously when Francis explained why he wanted to go back.

“It’s not just an ice cream shop.” Francis replied, tugging the stubborn Englishman along. “It’s homemade ice cream first of all. And there are also nuts and homemade candies and a dozen other things.”

Begrudgingly Arthur allowed himself to be pulled inside the small shop where the two of them wasted half an hour trying different samples of ice creams, candies, jams, jellies, and other assorted things. Until they were told that they had to buy something or leave. Arthur bought a raspberry jam because he felt bad.

“Will you tell me why you wanted to come out here of all places now?” Arthur asked once he and Francis stopped by the car to drop of his purchase. “The restaurant was wonderful, the antique shops are nice, the ice cream shop was much nicer than I thought it would be but you’re still insisting there’s something else to do and I frankly can’t imagine what it is.”

Francis walked behind Arthur and covered his eyes with his hands.

“Francis,” Arthur warned.

“Trust me.” Francis whispered in reply.

Francis walked Arthur forward. Eventually they made their way onto a large, wide, wooden deck looking out over the water. They were next door to the restaurant where they ate.

“A few more minutes.” Francis whispered to Arthur, reassuring the Englishman that he would remove his hands soon.

Eventually a quiet tune floated up to where Francis and Arthur were standing and Francis dropped his hands away from Arthur’s face. Everything was dyed a soft warm color from the setting sun. Arthur was facing the balcony of the restaurant where a live band was starting. “Francis,” Arthur started, turning around. Francis was holding out a hand to him.

“May I have this dance?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh look at the parallels I probably shouldn't be putting in


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had actually promised someone that this chapter would be up yesterday if nothing came up during the weekend to prevent me from finishing it and then I had to volunteer on Saturday at a Children's Festival I had signed up to work at like a month ago and totally forgot about :P I tried to finish this on Sunday anyways but after an original character of mine named Ren as well as two nameless characters "the kid" and "the boy" showed up in the story and Berwald got changed to Berwakl as I typed half-asleep, I decided it was best I go to bed and just finish it today. A few housecleaning announcements before we continue on: (1) after really having no idea how long this story would be for the longest time, I have finally figured out it will probably be around 30 chapters give or take a few (there's like a week until the wedding, possibly a day or two after the wedding, and an epilogue as a general time line), (2) I have two "polls" to present to you readers and since this note is already getting lengthy, I will put them at the end, please do look at them for me lovelies, (3) um...oh right if I'm doing the calculations right there will probably be two...sex scenes in the story-I had thought there would be more when I started this but after the build up for the story I just don't want to screw things up and I'm already starting to freak out over if those two scenes will seem forced when they come around, but (4) I was hit with a bit of inspiration for a smutty one-shot that would take place after the timeline of the story that I already started to work on so I (a) didn't forget the idea and (b) as practice because it's been a few years since I wrote any type of smut and I feel...out of practice? so if you guys really want it/if I finish it regardless I can post that as a small apology for the lack of smut in the actual story. And now I'll shut up because this note is ridiculously long. Please enjoy.

Arthur rolled out of bed with a quiet sigh. Yesterday was unbelievably great and he still felt the small glow of happiness left behind after the wonderful, impromptu date and late night make-out session. Francis was still snoring quietly in bed with both cats curled up on his back. Arthur smiled at the sight and left the bedroom to shower.

After finishing getting ready for the day as well as letting Alfred outside to use the restroom Arthur when back inside Francis's bedroom. Francis and the cats were all still asleep. Leaving a kiss on the top of Alice's head, Arthur left them be. Arthur had gone to bed around one in the morning and Francis had gone back to his painting so there was no telling how late the Frenchman had been up.

 _It almost feels surreal_. Arthur thought to himself as he walked to his car. After one very crazy week he was finally getting back into his old schedule. Granted he was still staying at Francis's flat but going to Sunday mass was still a start. Arthur reached the empty car lot a few minutes later. Sliding into his car, Arthur ran his hands over the peeling leather of the steering wheel.

"It definitely feels good getting back to this." Arthur said with a quiet sigh. Turning the car on and shifting into reverse, Arthur pulled out of his parking place. Yes, things were definitely starting to feel better.

* * *

Francis awoke at nearly eleven thirty. Groaning he started to roll over, becoming aware of the two animals on his back only as they meowed their protest and jumped away from him. Francis sat up a bit in bed and peeked at the two cats now glaring at him from the floor.

" _Je suis désolé, petites."_

Alice turned her nose up at the apology and left the room. Françoise meowed pleasantly and trotted after her new friend. Shaking his head at the cats' behavior, Francis dropped back onto the mattress with a groan. He was exhausted. No more staying up until four for a painting. Francis sighed heavily. Thank God he didn't have to work today.

Francis glanced at the empty spot on the bed next to him, cool compared to the spot where he laid. Today was…Sunday so Arthur was at church. If Francis hadn't been so exhausted he would have liked to get up and wish Arthur good-bye like before. Arthur probably would have liked things to get as close to his "normal" schedule as possible.

Suddenly Francis sat up in bed. Speaking of things Arthur would like…Throwing back his covers Francis was out of bed in just a few seconds. He was planning a surprise for Arthur and it needed to be finished before the Englishman returned. Lancashire Hotspot was a relatively heavy English stew that took all day to cook properly. Francis wanted to surprise Arthur with it to make up for the stew he couldn't have last night. And Francis knew for a fact that he had all the particular ingredients for this recipe.

Rolling up the sleeves of his newly donned shirt, Francis headed towards the kitchen. He had about an hour and a half before Arthur was home from church.

* * *

The weather was uncharacteristically pleasant after mass and so Arthur decided to stop by a small park before heading back to the apartment complex. The park was put on the spans of a small hill with pavement along the top and bottom of the hill. Arthur started on the top of the hill and did a short lap around it. The fresh air was pleasant and Arthur obviously wasn't the only one who thought so as the park began to fill up with families looking to enjoy the nice weather. When Arthur made it back up to the top of the hill for a second time, he looked down the hill at the gathering families. Along the bottom of the hill, one specific couple stuck out to him. After a moment's consideration, Arthur realized why the simple couple caught his attention.

It was his landlord Tino and his husband Berwald. Their arms were linked and Tino was talking in a very animated manner. Berwald was smiling softly at his husband, nodding occasionally but not speaking. Arthur smiled at the sight. The two of them appeared very much in love. It was nice to see.

Close to half an hour later, Arthur returned to Francis's flat. With two cats and a puppy currently in the flat, Arthur had gotten accustomed to some kind of greeting upon entering but none came. Curious as to what could keep the four other beings in the apartment occupied, Arthur went to investigate.

Thankfully he didn't have to go too far.

Francis was asleep, much like Arthur had left him, however he had moved to the couch and had gotten dressed. Alice and Françoise were curled up together at Francis's feet. And Alfred, the dog Francis was not very thrilled about welcoming into his home, was curled up on Francis's chest with one of the blond's hands resting on his back.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Arthur pulled out his cellphone and took a picture of the sight before him. The cheap phone didn't have any special abilities or a high quality camera but it was enough for a few pictures. Sliding his phone back into his pocket before he was tempted to take any more pictures, Arthur went to Francis's bed room to retrieve his book from the nightstand.

When Arthur returned to the living room Francis was starting to sit up, stretching and yawning as he did so.

"Welcome back." Francis said with a small smile when he noticed Arthur starting near the entrance of the living room. "How long have you been home?"

Arthur wasn't sure why but the sudden use of the word home but butterflies in his stomach that really shouldn't be there.

"Not very." Arthur admitted. Francis nodded sleepily.

"Sandwiches for lunch?"

"Sandwiches would be wonderful."

Francis smiled. "I'll go throw some together. You just sit and read."

The Frenchman pushed up from the couch, rubbing Alfred's head from where the puppy had laid down after being kicked off the couch. Arthur went to sit at the end of the couch with a bigger smile than he ever should have had stretching across his face.

* * *

Francis and Arthur wasted their day in the living room. Arthur read from his novel while at the other end of the couch Francis was sketching. Alice and Françoise had taken up all the space on the large arm chair and Alfred had laid on the ground between Francis and Arthur, content. It was a peaceful, lazy Sunday and it felt absolutely amazing.

Arthur was nearing the end of his novel when Francis suddenly shot up from the couch and went into the kitchen. Arthur looked up from his book curiously. What in the world was Francis doing?

Behind him someone meowed, followed by the quiet  _thump_  of something hitting the ground. Turning around Arthur saw Françoise sniffing Francis's sketchbook. Arthur bent over to pick it up, flipping it over as he did so.

The sketch was of him and Alice. The pose was familiar to Arthur, he was holding Alice out in front of him, and smiling at her while she looked rather disgruntled. Arthur had gotten into the habit when he was younger of kissing Alice's nose as he picked her up and never quite grew out of it. She never seemed particularly fond of it but she tolerated him none the less. Francis had captured the result perfectly.

"I hope you don't mind," Francis said softly from the doorway. Arthur looked up in surprise and felt his cheeks flush, embarrassed that he got caught peeking at Francis's sketchbook. "It was such a perfect moment I had to capture it."

"It's quite accurate." Arthur replied lamely. Francis smiled, moving to stand next to the couch and look at the picture over Arthur's shoulder. Absentmindedly Francis ran his fingers through Arthur's bangs and compared the picture to the real thing.

"Perhaps I need to add a little to the eyebrows…" Francis mused. Scowling, Arthur hit him with the sketchbook.

"Bugger off."

Francis laughed, leaning down to kiss Arthur's head. "I am just teasing you Arthur. You're lovely." Francis smirked against Arthur's temple. "Large eyebrows and all."

The Frenchman jumped out of the way before Arthur could hit him again, laughing all the while. Arthur considered tossing the sketchbook at him.

"Are you hungry?" Francis interrupted Arthur's inner thoughts before the Englishman could make a move.

"Hm? Oh I suppose a little. It has been a while since lunch, hasn't it?"

"Oh good." Francis offered a hand to help Arthur off the couch. "I made dinner."

Arthur looked up at Francis in surprise. "When did you have time for that?"

Francis urged Arthur to his feet and pushed him towards the kitchen, ignoring his questions.

When they reached the kitchen the scent hit Arthur squarely.

"Is that…Lancashire?" Arthur asked, turning around to look at Francis who, surprisingly enough looked a bit embarrassed.

"I know you wanted some stew yesterday but that plan didn't really work out and I had time to put this together this morning." Francis shrugged. "I thought it would be a nice surprise."

Before he could convince himself not to, Arthur kissed Francis. "Thank you."

"Am I forgiven then?"

"I suppose."

* * *

Arthur sat back in his chair after dinner with a satisfied smile softening his features.

"That really was delicious Francis, thank you. I haven't had Lancashire in years. And I never thought I would say it but I think that might have been better than my mother's."

Francis laughed, taking a small sip of his wine. "Was your mother a good cook?"

"The best I ever knew. She could make anything."

Francis studied the nostalgic expression on Arthur's face. "So you must take after your father…?" Francis teased. Arthur glared at him half-heartedly.

"I don't really know." Arthur admitted after a moment. "My father died shortly after we came to the States. I remember his face but other than remembering him as a large, loud man who brought the food home and smoked cigars there's not much I remember about him."

"You don't talk about your family much." Francis said quietly.

The peaceful expression the Englishman wore disappeared. "There's not much to talk about."

"I'm sure three brothers gives you a lot to talk about." Francis argued.

Arthur made a face. "We were close in age but that's all. We were never close to each other and I haven't spoken to them in years."

Francis was surprised. As an only child he had just assumed siblings were close. And after practically adopting Mathieu as a younger brother the two of them stayed in contact quite frequently.

"What about your mother?"

Arthur actually paled. "She was a small, pinched woman." Arthur opened his mouth to say something else but after a second's consideration he stayed quiet. Francis watched him curiously as Arthur ran a hand over his face, trying to decide what to say. "The only really kind thing I can say about her is that she was a wonderful cook."

"What?"

Absentmindedly Arthur rubbed his shoulder as if some phantom pain was suddenly troubling him. "My mother wasn't a very kind woman. She was shrewd actually, short tempered and after my father died she was a drinker."

"Arthur-"

"How did you know how to make that stew?" Arthur interrupted.

"…I found the recipe online actually." Francis admitted after a minute.

Arthur nodded silently. He wouldn't meet Francis's gaze.

Francis wanted to kick himself for pushing Arthur to talk about his family. He knew as soon as Arthur had told him about his family that he didn't have the most pleasant memories associated with them, he should have just left the subject alone. Now there wasn't the slightest bit of Arthur's content expression left from before.

Alice wandered out onto the balcony where Francis and Arthur sat, stopping dead in her tracks as she saw them. Arthur's shoulders were hunched forward and a dark look cast a shadow over his eyes. Francis looked a mix between worried and ashamed.

Alice knew instantly what had happened. It had been a long time since Arthur looked like that. He only ever looked so distraught when talking about the humans he had shared a home with when he and Alice first found each other. He called them his family but Alice thought such a name was ridiculous. He also told Alice that the two of them were family and Arthur never made Alice feel as bad as he looked when he thought of his first family.

Meowing to announce her presence Alice jumped to sit on Arthur's lap, nuzzling close to him until he started to pet her. From her new perch she studied Francis from across the table. She wanted to dislike this new human who had been causing her nothing but trouble but Francis did not look smug like other humans who had brought out this response from Arthur. He looked upset. Like he did not mean to hurt him.

Alice wasn't sure what to think of Francis and she didn't like it one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes those polls I was talking about...
> 
> 1) I've been saying for a while that after Every Day was finished, I wanted to keep working with this verse with a story about Alfred and Kiku but I ended up putting way more attention on Matthew and Gilbert than I ever thought I would throughout Every Day and, being totally honest, I actually have more of a story line planned out for them than Alfred and Kiku so I would like to pose the question, since at the end of the day, I truly am writing this for you all and I really want you to enjoy and continue to enjoy this verse as much as I enjoy writing in it: Which story would you like to see next?
> 
> A) One Day - Ameripan
> 
> or
> 
> B) Until Our Last Day - PruCan
> 
> Because I am happy to write either one next.
> 
> 2) I have written an Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin oneshot Therapy or Slow it Down (Eremika) and a Homestuck oneshot Presents With Multiple Uses (johndave). I have gotten multiple requests for me to expand these two stories into longer, multi-chapter but as you, my loyal readers, might have figured out-I don't have the free time to just write all the fanfiction I want. Now I never intended to expand these stories but since I love both of them so much and they got such a good response, I have no issue putting the effort into doing it if people actually want me to so if any of you are interesting in either or both fandoms/pairings and would be willing to read the stories and tell me if I should work on:
> 
> A) Therapy (or Slow it Down) - Eremika
> 
> or
> 
> B) Presents With Multiple Uses - johndave
> 
> I would be eternally grateful.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Do you even want to know my excuse for the wait? Because its a pretty bad one, I'll admit. I kind of...forgot? For reasons I have yet been able to explain to even myself, I was for some reason under the impression I had written and published chapter 22 on October 12 and that the chapter I needed to write was 23, which I didn't have a plan for yet. Why? I have no idea. Anyways once I realized my mistake I planned to write two chapters to make it up to you guys and I kind of did? This is the length of two of my usual chapters but instead I just compiled it into one. I'm sorry for this guys. Thank you as always for you support and keeping me on my toes when I don't update. I'm pretty sure I've enjoyed writing this story more than anything I've ever written before because you guys are so great.

Arthur awoke at exactly 6:15. He took Alfred outside. He took a shower of six and a half minutes once returning and dressed in a simple grey suit, white shirt, and red tie. Arthur made himself some toast, nearly burned as always with strawberry jam, though he forewent his usual morning tea on the account of Francis not having a proper kettle. He cleaned up his breakfast, finished his morning prep and went to the door. Alice had woken up with Arthur and went to the door to bid him farewell with a soft rub against his leg. Alfred had gone back to sleep and Arthur had not seen Françoise since he left the bedroom that morning.

"Behave please." Arthur ordered the two animals softly. Alice meowed quietly in reply and Alfred simply rolled over. Lazy thing. Arthur left Francis's flat at seven o'clock. Francis, like Arthur, lived on the second floor of his apartment building and so Arthur's morning trek from the flat to the path wasn't any longer than normal.

Arthur took a deep breath as he reached the paved path. The air was crisp and refreshing though he knew it suggested a harsh winter ahead. No one else was outside though there was still the comforting tune of bird song overhead. Things really were feeling like normal again and it was absolutely glorious.

Arthur had just made it past Francis's building when a low whistle came from behind him. Before he could think better of it, Arthur turned around. Francis was stepping out onto the balcony with a cigarette held a few inches away from his face. Arthur realized he hadn't seen Francis with a cigarette in days.

"Good morning Arthur." Francis called down with a slow smirk changing the expression on his face. The look did odd things to Arthur's stomach. Refusing to let it get to him, Arthur narrowed his eyes at Francis.

"Frog."

Francis laughed. He opened his mouth to say something and then paused, slowly closing his mouth once again. Arthur watched him suspiciously. Francis took a long drag of his cigarette with a contemplative expression.

"Have a good day at work." Francis finally said. Arthur exhaled softly, smiling up at Francis.

"Thank you Francis. Have a good day as well."

Francis watched Arthur go with a horrible feeling in his stomach that something had changed in their relationship just then-and for once he didn't know what.

Arriving to the parking lot a few minutes earlier than usual, Arthur was still alone in his trek to work; no morning greeting from Alfred today it appeared. Shrugging the small detail off, Arthur slid into his car and left the property. The company was being moved into a new building until further notice today and he had never actually been to the address left on his answering machine.

* * *

Eduard greeted Arthur as he entered the new building, a few minutes later than he would normally arrive. The sandy haired blond had his hands full with two full cup carriers but he still stopped and smiled at Arthur when he noticed the Englishman coming through the front door.

"Morning Arthur."

Arthur nodded hello, wordlessly offering to take one of the carriers from Eduard. Grateful, Eduard relinquished one to him and used his newly freed hand to push his rounded glasses further up the bridge of his nose. Eduard directed them to the elevator, third floor, and off they went.

"Enjoy the time off?" Eduard asked over the gentle music.

Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly. "Mm yes I did. And you?"

Eduard laughed. "I'm certainly not going to complain about it."

The elevator lapsed back into silence, filled only by a keyboard's rendition of the  _Pink Panther_  theme song.

"Lucky we found an office building for rent so close by, huh?" Eduard often tried to fill the silences that happened between the two of them though he rarely succeeded, though Arthur suspected that was most likely more his fault than anything.

"Yes I suppose it is. Too much longer without work and I would have had to start job searching once again."

Eduard smiled. "You always were a workaholic if I ever knew one."

A sharp bell rang loudly throughout the elevator as it shuddered to a stop.

"Well here we are." Eduard took back the coffee, thanking Arthur for his help, and took off. Arthur entered the office space much more hesitantly. Oddly enough, the space didn't seem as foreign as Arthur expected. It was obviously different from his old office-but not as much as it very well could have been.

Arthur's boss stood across from him, looking as uncomfortable as he always did when he spoke with Arthur. The man looked around but everyone aside from Arthur appeared to be involved in some activity or another. Resigned to his fate, Arthur's boss motioned stiffly for Arthur to follow him.

"I will show you to your temporary space."

Arthur placed his briefcase down on the small, white desk space when he reached his new workspace. Turning around to thank his boss, Arthur paused. No one was there. Sighing, Arthur turned back to his desk and began to prep the space for work. Nothing had changed.

At the end of the day, Arthur wasn't quite sure if he felt so good because he had just completed a day of hard work or because he could  _leave_  work. He was surprised as the thought crossed his mind but he could not deny how much more relieved he felt once he was outside the new building.

"Feels like we were spoiled with those days off, huh?" Eduard came up behind Arthur as the blond walked to his vehicle, surprising him. Lost in thought, he hadn't heard the man following him. "See you tomorrow, bright and early." Eduard gave him a surprisingly cheeky grin and turned left, away from Arthur. Arthur was relatively sure Eduard became livelier on days that felt notably longer than most.

Arthur had parked his Mirca in the shade when he arrived in the morning but it was now bathed in full sun and as he slide inside he discovered it had most likely been in such a state for quite a while. The interior of the car was suffocating. As soon as the engine started, Arthur rolled down the windows-sighing to himself as the driver's side window stuck half-way down and wouldn't budge in either direction.

 _A problem for a later time,_ Arthur decided after a few minutes of trying to move the window. His boss had finally left the building and paused at his own vehicle to watch Arthur struggle with his malfunctioning controls. With a bit of an awkward wave, Arthur left the parking lot. He really was never quite sure why his boss disliked him so much but it had never interfered with work other than making a few uncomfortable atmospheres so Arthur never dwelt on it for more than a few passing minutes at times like these.

The drive back to the apartment complex was relatively calm despite the rush hour traffic and the heat. Regardless he was happy to arrive back home. A few neighbors Arthur had never spoken with were mulling around, unloading groceries or walking to their cars to leave. A vehicle Arthur had never seen before was parked in Alfred's usual parking spot.  _Perhaps Kiku?_ Arthur guessed as he passed. A few people waved as he walked by. Arthur sometimes forgot how large the apartment complex truly was. Each building only housed four separate flats, two on each floor, but there were six buildings, only two of which he had ever actually been inside. The first was his own, building E and the second was building F, where Francis lived. Arthur glanced back at Alfred's usual parking spot and the unfamiliar car parked there as he exited the parking lot. He wasn't even sure which building Alfred lived in.

The path back to the buildings was much less active than the parking lot. Birdsong filled the air with a pleasant tune and the faintest of breezes rustled the leaves. Francis stood on his balcony, looking out at the horizon. Arthur stopped in his tracks as he watched the Frenchman. It was an interesting perspective-being the one doing the watching. He often found Francis's eyes following him while in his flat, or noticed the blond studying him as he came down the path in the morning but he didn't often look back. As usual Francis's hair was pulled back. He wore a white button down and dark, fitted jeans. Françoise came out onto the balcony and wrapped herself around Francis's legs. Francis looked down at the feline and smiled. When he looked back up he glanced in Arthur's direction and for a moment looked startled. Arthur cursed, he was caught.

"How was work,  _mon ami_?" Francis asked with a smile.

"It was fine, thank you. How was your day?" Arthur resumed walking, no longer able to keep watching Francis without embarrassing himself.

"Dreadfully lonely."

Arthur glanced up at Francis, nearly to his balcony already. Francis was still smiling down at him.

"I can never tell when you are joking."

"Well not assuming everything I say is a joke is a good place to start,  _mon ami_." Francis said simply. Arthur looked away.

"I'll be back in a few minutes. I'm going to get my mail."

If Francis made any kind of reply, Arthur didn't hear it.

* * *

Arthur unlocked his door, his mail for the day and newspaper tucked under one arm. Nothing had changed inside other than the fact that his flat felt oddly lonely as he stepped inside. Shaking his head, Arthur dropped some of his things off on the kitchen counter and flipped through the mail. It was all bills and the occasional sales ad. Arthur put what he didn't want in the recycle bin under the sink and slid the most pressing bills into his briefcase to remind him to them pay tomorrow. As Arthur left the kitchen, he passed the ceramic cookie jar he usually kept scones in and a dark feeling passed over him. His conversation with Francis from the night before came back in complete clarity. After all this time, Arthur thought he had gotten over what happened, learned to live past it but being forced to think about his family still struck him like hot irons when he was least expecting it. He should just throw the damn jar away but he was actually rather proud of it and he would be damned if he let his mother ruin yet another one of his things.

Arthur went to his bedroom afterwards to check his answering machine and gather some clothes for the next day. There were no new messages. As Arthur flipped off the answering machine he glanced at the stripped bed next to him. The realization that the mattress would need to be replaced hit him as he looked it over. There was no way he would get that much blood out of the mattress. With everything that had happened around the event-and so quickly-he hadn't even thought about that. They didn't know who had been inside the flat with Alfred either. A second horrible thought came over Arthur.

After a moment's hesitation, Arthur peeled off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Trying to stay as far away from the bloodstain as possible, Arthur pushed the mattress.

"I will never understand why these things are so dreadfully heavy." Arthur muttered to himself as he got the mattress into a position that he could stand it up. It very nearly brushed the ceiling of his bedroom. A much smaller stain was on the box spring beneath the mattress as well.

Sighing, Arthur rested his head against the side of the mattress. "I suppose I'll be replacing everything." Arthur allowed the mattress to drop partway back down onto the box with a loud  _thump_.

Arthur gathered his new clothes and the items he had brought with him and left the flat a few minutes later.

When he reached Francis's building once again, he was still outside. This time he was leaning against the railing, a cigarette held lazily between two fingers. He was looking off into the horizon once again but looked Arthur's way only a few second after the Englishman arrived.

" _Salut_." The casual greeting threw Arthur off for a moment.

"Ah, hello." Arthur chewed on his bottom lip. "I have a potentially embarrassing request."

"Oh?" Francis looked much more interested than Arthur would have liked him to.

"…Would you like to come shopping for a new bed with me?"

Francis nearly burned himself with his forgotten cigarette as he stood up straight. He looked at the cigarette like he was surprised he had it and quickly disposed of it.

"I'll be right down."

The two of them ended up taking Francis's car. Arthur left his things from before in the back seat, hoping to remember them when they returned. Arthur tried to explain why they were going mattress shopping but Francis brushed off his explanation, saying he figured it had something to do with when the apartment was broken into and he was actually surprised Arthur didn't ask earlier. The Englishman didn't have a reply for that.

They drove in relative silence, Francis seemed to know what he was doing and where to go so Arthur was content to look out the window and not say anything. Frankly he still felt a little flushed and he hated it admit it, but he was fairly certain that was thanks to Francis's odd enthusiasm about helping him.

Arthur noticed Francis glancing at him every few minutes but he mostly ignored it. Francis was probably wondering why his face was red and he didn't have any interest in explaining it to him.

"Do you always wear suspenders?" Francis asked after a moment. Arthur looked up, first at the Frenchman and then down at himself, in surprise. That certainly wasn't the expected question.

"Most days," Arthur admitted. "But not always."

"I'm surprised I hadn't notice before." Francis muttered. Arthur was a bit too but he kept the comment to himself. "It's a nice look for you."

"Suspenders?" Arthur asked, confused. What in the world was Francis going on about? Francis laughed.

"What you're wearing right now." He elaborated, waving a hand towards Arthur. "All you need is to add a hat an ditch the tie and it'd look as if we took you from a twenties movie."

Arthur looked back down at himself once again. He had forgotten to put his jacket back on or roll down his sleeves, though he was definitely more comfortable in the late summer heat without the jacket so he supposed it wasn't especially important. "Thank you I suppose."

Francis nodded with a quiet hum.

"I don't believe I've ever seen you in a dark colored shirt." Arthur blurted out. The thought had struck him earlier when he was watching Francis out on his balcony on his way back to the apartments after work. But he hadn't intended to say it. "I apologize, I don't know where that came from."

"No, no it's alright." Francis had a thoughtful expression. "I think you are probably right. I don't often wear dark colors. I have a dark red shirt I've worn a few times for Christmas. I think that is it."

"I-" Arthur closed his mouth with a resounding crack before he could finish the thought. Francis looked at him, concerned but Arthur quickly looked away. The thought that Francis would probably be incredibly attractive in a deep red was not something Arthur really wanted to share at the moment.

Ten minutes later Francis parked the car in front of a mattress store. "Ready?"

Arthur sighed, unbuckling himself from his seat. "I suppose."

They walked in side by side and were immediately greeted by a grinning sales person.

"Welcome gentlemen." The employee greeted. He was a thin, older man with a pronounced hunch to his back and long bony fingers he kept twisting together as if nervous. "How may I help you today?"

"Ah, I'm looking for a new mattress. And box spring."

"Lovely, lovely. And what size are we considering this evening, gentlemen?"

"Full." Arthur answered stiffly. The man looked past him to Francis with a curious expression.

"Surely a bigger size would suit the two of you bet-"

"I live alone thank you." Arthur interrupted. "My friend here gave me a ride."

"O-Oh of course. My apologizes. Right this way then." He gave them a toothy grin that made Arthur inexplicably uncomfortable. Francis threaded his arm through Arthur's with an odd expression on his face. Arthur tied not to think much of it as they followed the strange salesman through the store. There weren't many other people around, and the few that were around were mostly other workers. The salesman stopped near the back wall and gestured to the array of beds before them.

"Here is our selection of full sized mattresses. Please feel free to look at a few different models until you find the one best suited for you. If you have any questions, or when you make your final decision, just call." The salesman left the two of them alone.

"…Did he seem a bit off putting to you as well?" Francis asked once he was gone. Arthur nodded.

"I'm glad he is not the type to hover around until he makes a sale."

"I couldn't agree more." Francis said. Arthur sent him a wiry smile and stepped away from him to look at the mattresses.

Francis stood back a while as Arthur looked around. The Englishman had made a point of telling the salesman that the mattress was just for him, that they were just friends. Francis didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

However, after watching Arthur for about fifteen minutes, Francis had to interfere.

"Arthur, how are you going to know if you will like the mattress if all you do is touch it? Lay on it." Francis insisted. Arthur looked at him as if he was crazy.

"I can't lay on the mattresses." Francis moved to stand to next to Arthur and pressed on the mattress just as Arthur had been doing.

"That hardly gives you any idea of what it will feel like. Lay on it."

"Francis, I really don't think that's allowed-"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Well because…it's…unsanitary?"

Francis rolled his eyes. "If you don't at least sit on the mattress I will pick you up and put you there myself."

"I highly doubt you can lift me. We're the same-"

Before Arthur could finish his sentence, Francis had swept him into his arms. And promptly dropped him onto the mattress.

Arthur's face was flushed a deep red and he glared at Francis. "I cannot believe you just did that."

"I can." Francis interrupted.

"And in public of all places its one thing to make a scene when no one is around but this is just ridiculous." Arthur continued on as if Francis hadn't interrupted.

"Hardly anyone  _is_ around. And have you always been that light. I carried you once before but I could have sworn you were heavier, and it is not as if you haven't been eating property-"

"That is not the point."

Francis sent Arthur a pointed look that said he wasn't done on the subject but relented anyways. "No the point is: how do you feel about the mattress?"

Arthur looked away. The mattress  _was_  extremely comfortable. And before he had been thrown on, he hadn't thought he would like it. But he was not interested in giving Francis the satisfaction of being right.

"It's fine."

Francis pressed against the bed once again. It was a pretty stiff mattress. He tried not to make a face. A stiff mattress wasn't a surprising choice for Arthur but he had never cared for them. Arthur seemed to read his mind because he grabbed Francis's arm before he could pull away again.

"How can you be sure you don't like the mattress without trying it out, Francis?" Before the Frenchman could react, Arthur yanked him onto the bed with him.

"You're surprisingly strong for someone your size." Francis commented from where he landed on top of Arthur. Francis pushed himself onto his hands and knees and looked down at Arthur. Based on the bright pink of the Englishman's cheeks as he looked away from him, it was obvious he hadn't thought that plan through entirely.

"I keep telling you we're the same damn size. If you can lift me up I should be able to pull you onto a bloody mattress." Arthur reached up between them and loosened his collar, glancing at Francis out of the corner of his eye as he did so. Francis's mouth went dry. "Will you please get off me?"

Francis smirked. "I quite like my position. And you're right. You really  _can't_  get the full feel for a mattress without trying it out. Thank you."

"You bloody frog, get the hell off me." Arthur pushed his shoulder but Francis didn't budge.

"Not until you answer a few questions,  _monsieur._ To make sure you enjoy your purchase to its fullest extent."

"No." Arthur answered stubbornly. Francis ignored him.

"Are you comfortable?"

"Of course not."

"Just pretend I am not here. Are you comfortable on the mattress?"

"Oh sure." Arthur replied sarcastically but after a few minutes had passed and Francis had still not moved an inch, Arthur realized the Frenchman was really going to make him answer. "Fine, yes, alright. The mattress is rather comfortable."

"And what did you think of before?"

Arthur glared up at him. "Are you really going to make me answer these ridiculous questions?"

"There's nothing ridiculous about these questions." Francis argued. "And if you don't answer I'm going to assume that you liked it before and that I have not made a point to you. In which case we'll have to try this again until I make a poin-"

"Yes alright you were right. And you've made your point. Now please get off me."

With a triumphant grin, Francis complied easily. He offered a hand to help Arthur up. Begrudgingly the Englishman took it.

The salesman from before appeared almost out of thin air. "Has a decision been made?"

"Yes." Arthur replied just as Francis said "No." over him.

"Oh?" The salesman looked between the two curiously. "Is there conflict…?"

"No." Arthur said. "It's fine. It is just that-"

"We need to look around. A few more minutes should suffice." Francis said with a pleasant smile.

"This one is fine Francis." Arthur argued. Francis glared at him.

"You were ready to pass on this one before I made you lie on it. Just try a few more before you buy something you have to sleep on for the next five years, or ten knowing how you dislike change. And its not as if this is a cheap investment."

"Why in the world did I bring you along?" Arthur sighed. "I suppose he has a point. I'm sorry. I guess we'll need a few more minutes."

"Of course. Take as long as you need." The salesman wandered off again without another word.

Arthur looked at a few other mattresses after that, and Francis didn't need to push him onto any of them so he stayed back once again. Arthur was torn between two at the end, the one Francis had thrown him onto and the one next to it.

"Which one do you think?" Arthur asked suddenly. Francis looked at him, surprised.

"Why would it matter what I thought?" Francis asked. Arthur start to say something but thought better of it at the last moment and looked away from Francis.

"Never mind then."

Francis walked past Arthur and laid on the second mattress. After a moment he pushed himself up and looked at Arthur standing at the foot of the bed.

"If I had to choose, I would say the one from before." Francis said honestly. Arthur looked between the two mattresses for a moment.

"Have you made a decision?" The salesman appeared once again. Francis was growing increasingly more uncomfortable every time he showed up. Arthur's expression said he felt the same way.

"Ah, yes. We'll take that one." Arthur gestured to the bed Francis currently didn't occupy.

The salesman twisted his fingers together at an increased pace and gave the two of them a knowing smile.

"Wonderful. Right this way." The salesman headed towards a register in the middle of the store. Arthur glanced at Francis who was still lying on the bed with a dumbfounded expression and followed after the salesman.

Francis shook his head, flopping back onto the mattress fully and smiling up at the ceiling.

"What am I going to do with you,  _mon amour_?"

Francis joined Arthur in the middle of the store just as they were finishing up the transaction.

"When can it be delivered?" Arthur asked as he signed a form.

"The earliest would tomorrow. What time is good a good time for you to receive it?"

"Sometime after five."

"That would be the last delivery of the day then but yes it could work." The salesman looked over the clipboard as Arthur handed it back to him, signed somewhere on the sheet as well, and smiled up at them. "Thank you. You both have a nice night. "

Arthur nodded to him. "Thank you. Same to you."

As they turned to leave, Arthur slipped his hand into Francis's. Francis looked away, hoping to hide the smile that appeared almost instantly.

Arthur stopped in his tracks near the door and Francis looked back at him, concerned.

"Did he ever even tell us his name?"

"The salesman?" Francis asked, confused as to what Arthur was talking about. "I don't recall. Is it important?"

Arthur shook his head, moving to stand next to Francis and intertwine their hands once again. "I guess not. Its just odd, don't you think?"

Francis shrugged one shoulder. He moved to hold the door open for Arthur who sent him a thankful smile.

The sky outside was a deep pink, despite the late hour. Arthur glanced at his watch.

"Nearly eight o'clock! I didn't realize we had been in there so long." Arthur looked at Francis. "Did you?"

Francis shook his head no. Arthur dropped his arm back to his side with a sigh. Francis squeezed Arthur's hand gently and he looked towards him once more.

"Dinner?"

Arthur smiled softly. "Sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are interested in knowing the project that I will start on once Every Day is complete here are the poll results (so far)
> 
> (a lot of people said both/either but then also said one that they would prefer so these votes only count that)
> 
> Days of Our Lives
> 
> Until Our Last Day (PruCan): 7
> 
> One Day (Ameripan): 3 (although one person I won't name was especially passionate about this vote and said it about five times and offered me a bribe)
> 
> Non-Hetalia
> 
> Presents With Multiple Uses (JohnDave-Homestuck) : 6
> 
> Therapy (Eremika-Attack on Titan) : 4
> 
> Ah I can't say I'm really surprised about the results so far. If your preferred story is losing, fear not-the poll is not over. You can still send in a vote if you would like one of these four to be written (or request something entirely different if you so choose).


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! And belated Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and any other winter holidays I'm not better educated about. I know technically this is a late update since I missed the December deadline by one day but the holidays are a busy time for me and this year more than ever. If you follow me on tumblr you may have seen something about this, even if you do follow me you might not have seen something so that's alright, but on December 16th my grandfather passed away at 94. Normally I'm busy with holiday prep from the 20th until the 25th plus maybe a little something extra if we have a small get together with some of my friends or my mothers friends or something at the house after Christmas but this year it was basically nonstop prep and family time and funerals and everything that goes along with a funeral from the 17th until the 28th and then I was just exhausted and had no motivation to write at all so...this kind of got put off. I'm sorry about that.

The next morning, Arthur arrived to work roughly the same time Eduard did. Once again the bespectacled man was equipped with coffee however he seemed to be struggling to carry it more than usual. As Arthur greeted him and offered to take one from him, he realized why.

Eduard's left hand was in a white plaster cast.

"Are you alright?" Arthur asked when he finally noticed the cast. Eduard looked surprised for a moment before glancing down at his arm.

"Oh right. You wouldn't think it'd be so easy to forget about this thing." Eduard laughed as Arthur pushed the call button for the elevator. When he realized Arthur was still waiting for a real answer, he shrugged one shoulder. "It's not as bad as it seems."

"May I ask what happened?" Arthur asked. A woman in a grey skirt suit talking into a headset as while as reading something on her phone exited at the same time that they entered the elevator. Arthur pressed the button for the third floor and stepped back. Eduard laughed awkwardly.

"Someone broke into my apartment." Arthur's eyes widened. "And I tried to stop him."

"Did he attack you?"

Eduard looked away. His cheeks were flushed.

"Uh no…not exactly."

"Not exactly?" Arthur looked at his blushing coworker suspiciously.

"It was more like I attacked  _him._ But he was faster and escaped."

Arthur blinked a few times. "And how does this relate to your broken arm?"

Eduard looked at his feet for a few seconds. "I tried to follow him and fell down the stairs."

Arthur looked forward and tried not to reveal to Eduard that he wanted to laugh. "Are you alright, other than your broken arm?" Arthur asked stiffly. He could feel Eduard watching him as if he knew something wasn't quite right but couldn't figure out what it was.

"I-" A loud screeching noise interrupted Eduard for a moment and both men looked around surprised. When the noise did not repeat, Eduard continued hesitantly. "I'm mostly fine. Just a little bruised up and sore. My old roommate Toris and his…" Eduard's brows furrowed as he searched for the right word. "His uh…Feliks were supposed to be coming over for dinner as it was so they found me shortly after it happened and helped me to the hospital. And insisted I stay with them for a few days." Eduard shrugged once again just as the elevator made the same, shrieking noise. Both men grimaced.

"What in the word is that?" Eduard asked. Arthur shook his head. Perhaps it was just the old building? He wouldn't be surprised if the building had a few things in need of oiling or fixing. The lights flickered and the elevator stopped moving. Arthur closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose.

"Please tell me we've reached the third floor." He didn't even need to open his eyes to see Eduard shaking his head as the lights flickered again and a loud crash came from somewhere in the building. A moment later the lights went out entirely. Almost immediately an emergency light flashed to life and shrouded them both in an eerie glow.

"Unbelievable." Arthur muttered. Eduard snorted.

"What luck, huh?" Arthur didn't reply. "Do you think it's a power outage or just the elevator malfunctioning?"

"Well I suppose there's one way to find out." Arthur muttered, stepping forward to pick up the emergency phone from its cradle. Silence greeted him. He pushed a few buttons. Nothing.

"Power outage?" Eduard guessed as Arthur put the phone back with a frustrated grunt. "Maybe the firm is cursed."

Arthur snorted but didn't reply. He wondered if there was a point in trying to call someone for help. He was fairly certain he had his mobile on him but even if it had service in the elevator, who could he call? Francis? What could he do?

Eduard sat down and leant his back against the wall. He laid his briefcase on the ground and balanced the cup carrier on top of it. He wondered if Arthur liked coffee. He hated for all of it to go to waste but there was no way he would be able to drink all of it on his own if they were stuck in the elevator for longer than a few passing minutes. Eduard looked over at Arthur who was still standing stiffly, looking towards the closed doors with an unreadable expression. If they were stuck together in the elevator for longer than a few minutes, Eduard wondered if Arthur would actually speak with him or allow them to be stuck in an awkward silence the entire time. They had worked together for years and yet he knew next to nothing about the blond.

Five minutes passed and Eduard started drinking his coffee.

Ten minutes passed and Arthur started pacing.

After fifteen minutes Arthur started searching his pockets for something. Whatever it was he came up empty.

Another five minutes passed and Arthur looked over at Eduard who was now considering sampling another coffee.

"Do you have your mobile phone?"

Eduard sent him an apologetic smile. He had realized he had forgotten it at Toris' when he went on the coffee run but for fear of being late, didn't go back for it. Arthur sighed and finally relaxed enough to lean against the back wall.

"Do you have any pets?" Eduard asked after another few minutes of silence. Arthur looked over at him and surprise and Eduard shrugged one shoulder at the weird look.

"We've known each other for years but know nothing  _about_ each other. Now's a perfect time to get to know each other."

Normally, Arthur was fairly certain he would simply brush off the question or give a short, curt answer and hope Eduard got the message but he found himself answering anyways.

"I have a cat, Alice."

Eduard beamed at him from his place on the floor. "I have a cat too. Enelin's her name."

"You always struck me as more of a dog person." Arthur said after a moment. Eduard looked surprised but smiled at the thought.

"They're great but I am almost deathly allergic to them. It's not a pretty sight." He shuddered. Despite himself, Arthur laughed ever so slightly.

"So is it just you and Alice?" Eduard asked, enjoying this new side of Arthur. Arthur chewed on his bottom lip for a moment.

"Normally."

"Normally?"

"There was an…incident. Or rather a series of incidents and we're currently staying with…" Arthur trailed off. What did he call Francis? A friend? We're they friends or something more? It was true Arthur had started to see Francis as a friend but he was also starting to see him as something else. He didn't normally go on dates and kiss and sleep in the same bed as his "friends." But he and Francis had never put a name to what they were. Were they anything or were they just hoping to figure it out along the way, whatever "the way" was?

Eduard winced as he saw Arthur close back up on himself. Who he was staying with must be a touchy subject. His inability to answer, or even give a simple label to the person he was staying with, reminded Eduard of Toris. When Toris had moved out a year and a half ago and went to their neighboring city for a job, Eduard hadn't expected Toris to meet up with an old friend of his. Toris probably hadn't either.

Eduard knew Toris tried to label Feliks as just a friend, a very odd, eccentric friend who crossdressed and made Eduard, and sometimes even Toris, more uncomfortable than they normally tried to let on but still just a friend. Eduard however had the unfortunate fate of being witness to a few things he  _hoped_  "just friends" didn't ever do with or near each other. He blanched at the thought. If Arthur had a similar issue with labeling the person he was currently living with, maybe Eduard didn't  _want_  an explanation. Eduard ignored the odd pang he felt in his chest at the thought.

The elevator dulled into silence once again and Eduard decided not to try and push his luck.

After what Eduard would guess was nearly two hours had passed, Eduard had rolled up the sleeves to his button up shirt and was considering taking off the sweater vest he wore over it. The elevator was getting dreadfully hot. Arthur appeared to be thinking the same thing as he had shed his jacket and laid it over the cup carrier and his briefcase on the floor. When Arthur rolled his sleeves up, Eduard realized his throat felt oddly dry.

There was a part of himself that Eduard tried very much to ignore most days. But if Arthur started stripping there was no going back for him. Especially locked in a small, metal machine that was much too hot for his liking.

Another hour or what felt like an hour passed before Eduard couldn't stand the heat anymore and he shed his vest. Arthur had ditched the tie and undid the first few buttons of his button down.  _God be merciful,_  Eduard swore. They really needed out of the elevator.

"You think they would have tried contacting us or  _something_." Arthur complained to no one in particular. Eduard only nodded in stiff agreement.

As if their prayers-complaints-had been heard, roughly half an hour later the normal overhead light flashed to life.

"Praise God." Arthur muttered sarcastically. A few minutes later the elevator lurched to life and started to move once again. When they reached the third floor, they were greeted by the sight of their boss, the building owner, a police officer, and two men dressed in dark blue jumpsuits looking over a few blue prints.

"Coffee?" Eduard offered awkwardly from his place on the floor.

Arthur and Eduard were helped out of the elevator and the stale coffee thrown out. The three uniformed men as well as the building owner asked them a few questions about their time in the elevator and if anyone had been in it before or after it shut down, aside from them. During the interrogation their boss was on his phone in the background. He hung up almost simultaneously with the end of the questioning.

He shuffled over to them awkwardly. "As you both may have figured out by now…our firm is being targeted." He was speaking to both of them but he would only look at Eduard. Arthur ignored the cold shoulder for surprise at the statement.

"It is?" Eduard asked. "How do you figure? This was just a power outage, wasn't it? How does that equal someone targeting us?"

"This power outage wasn't an accident." One of the uniformed men said, cocking his hip to the side. He drummed his fingers on his leg as Eduard and Arthur took the information in.

"…And the fire at the last building?" Arthur guessed.

"Arson." The police officer answered.

The room was quiet for a few tense minutes. "There have also been multiple reports of the homes of our employees being broken into and damaged in some way though no thefts were reported."

Almost all eyes went to Eduard's cast.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair. Unbelievable.

"What's going to happen?"

"Well that's what we are trying to decide now." Their boss explained awkwardly. "Normally, we would like to continue on with business as usual."

"Ideally that would lead the perpetrator to doing something else and the more he acts out, the easier it would be for us to catch him." The officer explained. Unlike their boss, the officer had no problem making an uncomfortable amount of eye contact with Arthur who was feeling more and more self-conscious with each passing second.

"But  _I_  don't want  _serious damage_  done to  _my_  building." The building owner argued in a tone of voice that said he had probably been arguing that point for the better half of their time. "It was different when it was  _their_  building being screwed with and burned to the ground but they're only  _renting_  this one from me and it is only by the  _grace of God himself_  we didn't suffer some serious damage today!"

One of the jumpsuit clad men, who by this point Arthur figured were probably electricians, looked like he wanted to argue but his coworker smacked him and he shut his mouth.

Arthur's boss sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"You may both go home. You'll be contacted this evening with the decision of what will happen."

Arthur threw his coat over his arm and grabbed his briefcase. If there was no work to be done, he wasn't going to wait around and listen to the five men argue over what was going to happen. Eduard followed slightly less enthusiastically behind him. They took the stairs back to the ground floor.

When they made it outside, Eduard groaned despite himself. Arthur looked at him surprised and the blond had the decency to look embarrassed for the noise.

"I forgot Toris drove me to work today and I don't have my cell to call him." Eduard explained awkwardly. Arthur glanced down at his wrist watch.

"I wouldn't normally get home for at least another hour and a half." He paused, dropping his arm back down to his side. "I could give you a ride if you need."

Be stuck in another small, metal machine with a partially undressed Arthur for another twenty minutes or so or wait another two hours outside the office building until Toris came and picked him up.

"That would be great, thank you."

* * *

Francis looked up from his cutting board as the front door to his apartment opened. An exhausted looking Arthur entered, slipping out of his shoes and leaving his brief case and previously shed coat and tie on the floor next to them.

"You're home early." Francis stated, a bit surprised by his temporary roommate's condition. "Have a long day at work?"

"I never arrived." Arthur muttered. "I got stuck on the lift with a coworker between the second and third floors for most of the day." Arthur dropped into a seat at the island, across from Francis's work. "When the lift finally started working again, everyone else had been sent home because of the power outage."

Francis looked at him with wide eyes. "Another power outage? Was that not the issue you had before the fire?"

Arthur nodded. "Apparently someone is targeting our firm; trying to sabotage our business. It doesn't sound like they have proof but the police have been led to believe whoever it is, is also responsible for breaking into my flat, as well as the home of several other coworkers including the one who was stuck with me."

" _Mon dieu._ " Francis put down his knife and studied Arthur seriously. "What are you going to do?"

Arthur buried his face in his arms. "I have no idea. I am supposed to receive a call tonight that will tell me if I should even go into work tomorrow morning or not."

Francis slowly went back to cutting up the vegetables for their evening meal, watching Arthur every few seconds. Finally the Englishman stood up.

"I think I will shower before I got meet the delivery men with the mattress."

Francis nodded in understanding as Arthur stood and left the room. He watched Arthur pause in the living room to scratch Alice under her chin when she looked up from her nap. When Arthur disappeared into the bedroom to retrieve clean clothes, Alice looked towards Francis and meowed once before she returned to her nap. Francis tried to work a little faster.

Arthur was toweling off his hair as he left the bathroom when Francis looked up from the magazine he had been flipping through.

"When was the delivery supposed to come?"

Arthur paused, thinking back to the day before. "Six thirty I believe."

Francis glanced at the wall clock. "We should have time to eat before they arrive then. Shall we?"

Arthur smiled at him thankfully. "I'll be right back." Arthur promised, pulling the towel from his head as Francis stood to set the table.

The first few minutes of their dinner passed in silence. Francis put down his fork and took a sip of his wine. Arthur was looking off into the distance, lost in thought.

"Who were you stuck with again?"

"Hm?" Arthur put down his fork as well and made a face. "I think I bit my tongue."

Francis hid his smile behind his glass. "I asked who you were stuck with. In the elevator."

"Oh right. Eduard…Eduard von Bock I believe is his full name."

"You have worked with him how long and you do not know his full name?" Francis asked incredulously.

"He joined the firm a few months after I did."

"Arthur!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm not very sociable; at least not at work. Is it really that big of a deal that I don't know his full name? I know his first name at least."

Francis shook his head, turning back to the meal in front of him. "What did the two of you talk about?"

"…What?"

Francis glanced up at Arthur. "Please tell me you at least spoke to the poor man who was stuck in an elevator with you all day."

"Of course I did, we um…he asked…about my pets."

Francis exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "You,  _mon ami,_ are hopeless."

"I am not."

"You were stuck for how many hours?"

Arthur pursed his lips, looking off to the side. "Five or six at least."

"And all you managed to talk about was your cat. At his prompting."

"Oh shut up and eat your chicken." Arthur muttered.

They fed the cats and Alfred after dinner. Arthur insisted on doing the dishes because Francis cooked but while he was busy washing them, Francis dried what was already washed and put them away before Arthur could argue. They finished in a considerably shorter amount of time.

With Alfred on a leash, Arthur and Francis pulled on their coats and left to meet the delivery men at Arthur's flat. When Francis intertwined his fingers with Arthur's during the walk, the conversation he had with Eduard in the lift came back to him. What were they?

Arthur looked away from Alfred who had run ahead as far as his leash would let him, to study Francis's profile. His hair was down and a scarf had been half-heartedly draped around his neck. He was watching Alfred chase the occasional falling leaf with a smile Arthur would almost call fond.

Suddenly Francis turned to him and his smile turned to a surprised expression as their eyes met.

"Is something the matter, Arthur?"

"No." Arthur replied quickly, turning away. He hoped Francis missed the heat that spread to his face. He hadn't expected to be caught staring.

Francis ran a hand along his jaw as if checking to make sure something hadn't been on his face and studied Arthur in return. His cheeks were flushed and the tips of his ears pink. So he had just caught Arthur staring at him. Smirking, Francis wrapped his free arm around Arthur's waist and pulled the blond close to him.

"You know Arthur, we could always test out your new mattress when the deliverymen leave and I promise I'll let you look as much as you want to."

Arthur sputtered, wiggling out of Francis's grasp and walking a few feet ahead. With the hand not holding Alfred's leash, Arthur covered his face and prayed the heat would go away before they reached his flat.

There was no way they were just friends.

After a few minutes Arthur grudgingly allowed Francis to hold his hand once again. Francis apologized for teasing him but the laughter took away from his sincerity.

When they reached Arthur's building, they paused for Arthur to retrieve his mail before continuing on inside. Alfred had to stop and smell everything they passed. Arthur let Alfred off his leash once they reached his flat and not a moment later heard the call from downstairs with a request for the door to be opened.

Two men carried Arthur's new mattress into the flat a few minutes later. Trailing behind them with a surprised expression was the landlord Tino and his less expressive husband who was holding a small, white dog.

"Mr. Kirkland, Mr. Bonnefoy! I am glad you are here. I just heard from the plumber who has been taking care of everything that's happened in this building. They want to do some final checks in the morning but everything should be ready for you to return to your home tomorrow afternoon!"


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even have words to describe how sorry I am for this wait holy shit there is no explanation for this shit

Surprisingly, Arthur found himself awoken by Francis at nearly nine in the morning. At first Arthur was angry that Francis's idea of a good wake-up call was to remove all the blankets from the bed and then attempt to roll Arthur off the mattress itself as he removed the fitted sheet, then he panicked.

"What time is it?" Arthur demanded as he untangled himself from the half-rolled sheet on the floor. Francis looked as if he couldn't decide if he wanted to calm Arthur down or laugh.

"Arthur,"

"I cannot believe I slept in. How did I miss my alarm?" Arthur stumbled as he got to his feet but managed to stay upright. He thrust an accusatory finger at Francis. "Why the hell didn't you wake me up when you realized how late it was?"

"Arthur."

"I don't even have time for a shower or breakfast. I'm already two hours late. This is unbelievable."

"Arthur, you don't have work today." Francis finally got a full sentence through Arthur's mumblings. The Englishman squinted at him as if he was trying to figure out what kind of joke Francis was playing on him. "Your boss called while you were asleep. There had been a change of plans until the company's lawyers could work out something with your current building's landlord." Arthur relaxed a little at Francis's explanation. "I thought you could use a little extra sleep."

For a moment Arthur looked almost a bit embarrassed by his panic. Then he turned his anger to Francis once again.

"Whatever made you think rolling me off the bed was a good idea?"

Francis laughed. He returned to his previous chore of collecting the sheets off the bed and piling them into a large laundry basket.

"I thought it might be nice to mix things up."

Arthur stared at him incredulously. "You are possibly the worst flat-mate ever."

"Oh Arthur you flatterer, you." Francis replied, batting his eyelashes. The reply got nothing more than an irritated huff out of the grumpy Brit. Francis sighed. "I was planning to do some laundry before I went into work today. Would you care to join me?"

Arthur considered it for a moment. He did need to do some laundry this week, and he might as well wash the few things he had brought over before he moved back into his flat.

The thought surprised him for a moment and last night's events came back to him. He was supposed to move back into his flat this evening. His gaze fell back to Francis who was watching him expectantly. Arthur didn't know why but the thought that he would be leaving this evening left a sour taste in his mouth.

With a heavy sigh Arthur pushed the thought from his mind. It was something to dwell on at a later time.

"Let me shower first."

Francis nodded in understanding and continued picking up things strewn about his room in need of a wash as Arthur gathered his things and left for the bathroom. The faint sound of a door closing in the apartment followed by the quiet drone of water hitting the bathtub could be heard a few moments later. Francis stood back up, rubbing his lower back as he did. Before he could stop himself, his gaze fell to the side of the bed Arthur had been using.

It was going to be strange not having Arthur in his apartment once again. This was always only a temporary arrangement, and he knew that, but having Arthur, Alice, and admittedly even Alfred staying with him was nice. It had been a long time, perhaps too long, since Francis had stayed with someone or had someone stay with him.

Françoise curled herself around Francis's feet and meowed quietly. Francis looked down with a soft smile.

"It is laundry day,  _ma petite fille_  that is all." Francis said, placing the laundry basket on the newly stripped bed. Francis crouched down to pick up the purring feline. Françoise happily nuzzled under Francis's chin and settled against him.

Francis sat back against the bed and sighed. He had at least ten minutes before Arthur would be ready, he could take a moment to relax. Francis, who wasn't normally much of a morning person, had woken up around five in the morning for no particular reason. After half an hour of tossing and turning Arthur's phone had rung. After a few rings Arthur hadn't made any sign of waking up and Francis flipped it open to see the contact-and accidentally answered it.

After a brief moment of panic he put the phone to his ear.

"Arthur Kirkland's phone."

There was a pause on the other line-long enough for Francis to wonder if whoever called was still on the line and then someone cleared their throat.

"Ahem-Mr. Kirkland?" They asked, the confusion was clear in their voice. Francis glanced at Arthur who was still fast asleep.

"No I'm afraid he can't come to the phone right now. May I ask who is calling?"

Another pause followed, long enough to rival the first one before the man spoke again. "This is John Tilling from the firm. The legal team has finally gotten word back to me and there has been a change in the plans from last night. Mr. Kirkland will be notified when he is able to come back into work and he is not to return until then."

Before Francis could formulate a reply, John Tilling hung up. Francis pulled the phone away from his head surprised by the man's curtness. Arthur had mentioned that his boss wasn't a fan of him but the abrupt phone call was colder than he expected.

Francis looked between Arthur and the phone he still held open in his hand. Arthur looked so unbelievably relaxed and content laying there and he didn't even have to go into work today. Before Francis could second guess himself he tinkered around with Arthur's phone and silenced the alarm that would normally wake Arthur up at 6:15.

Francis returned Arthur's phone to the bedside tabled and laid back down in hopes of falling back asleep. By six he realized it was pointless and rolled out of bed to let Alfred outside. He fed Alfred and the cats and made himself a cup of coffee. It was nearly 6:30 when Francis found himself outside his makeshift studio, half-finished cup of coffee in hand.

When Francis had moved into the apartment complex he had figured he would have to find another space to rent as a studio if he wanted to continue his art. Not ideal but the apartment was supposed to be a temporary home. However, when Tino Väinämöinen showed him this apartment he fell in love with it. Most of the rooms were carpeted but the back room had a floor of recently refurbished hardwood and large windows on two of the walls that filled the spacious room with bright warmth come midday.

The hardwood floor was now covered in a plastic tarp to protect it and so cluttered with canvases, both empty and filled, it nearly seemed half the size it really was but Francis didn't mind. It was still his favorite space in the apartment.

Francis's current project sat in the middle of the room waiting to be finished. It was so close to completion Francis could see it clearly in his mind. A little addition of color in the upper corner, darkened shadows along the bottom, a few finer details added as a finishing touch and it would be done. Before he could stop himself Francis had put down his coffee mug and picked up a paintbrush.

Francis lost himself in his art. He always did. He measured time by his progress, by each deft brushstroke. Sometimes time seemed suspended in place never moving from the first moment his brush touched his canvas until the last. Other times it sped by him so fast hours passed by in seconds, a whole day went on without him while it appeared as if only a handful of minutes had come to pass inside his studio. No matter how it was spent, time in his studio was treasured. This freedom was what he had left France for.

" _Lawyers don't cook. They don't paint and doodle. That is not a living and it never will be."_

Francis loved his parents dearly and there was never a doubt in his mind that they loved him- Clovis and Clotilde Bonnefoy had heaped more love upon their only child than three children would know what to do with but while Clotilde, his kind, mild-mannered mother wanted to encourage him to follow whatever dreams he had, Clovis had other ideas.

" _Bonnefoys are laywers. We have been since your great-great-great grandfather and I'll be damned if my son is the one who ruins that."_

Francis always felt a bitter cold settle over him at the memory of his father's adamant disapproval of his choices. Francis studied law like his father wanted but he also studied culinary arts hoping that with time his father could see reason. When Jeanne passed away it was the last straw. He stayed for another year and a half to try and appease his family. As much of a supporter Jeanne was for Francis to follow his dreams-she wanted him to have a good relationship with his parents. She had lost her's as a child and didn't want the same for Francis. But without her support it became too much.

" _Je suis désolé, Jeanne._ " Francis took a step away from his canvas and looked over his work, hoping his sudden melancholy mood hadn't moved onto his piece. Thankfully the piece was saved from the dark feelings that had come over Francis. Despite the sour memories a small smile flickered into place on Francis's face as he looked over the painting. With a few finishing touches the piece was completed.

Francis gathered up his materials and empty coffee cup and took them to the kitchen to be rinsed off. Setting the cleaned supplies out to dry afterwards, Francis got in the shower. A few minutes later he gathered up some dirty laundry and went to go wake up Arthur.

"Isn't it a little early to already be taking a nap?" Arthur's voice entered the room and Francis looked up to find him toweling off his hair. Fully dressed in slacks and a button-down, Arthur looked more like he was coming home from work than having a relaxed day off.

"Do you ever dress casually?" Francis asked, placing Françoise back on the ground and standing up. The long-haired feline curled herself around his feet and purred. Arthur looked down at himself, confused.

"I am dressed casually."

Francis shook his head, picking up the laundry basket once again. "Do you even own casual clothing, Arthur? A t-shirt? Blue jeans?"

Arthur made a face. "I don't think I've worn jeans since college."

Francis took Arthur's damp towel from him as he left the room. "I have a feeling Arthur, there are a quite few things you have not done since college."

Arthur stayed in the doorway of the bedroom watching Francis's retreating back with Françoise trotting happily beside him. With a shake of his head Arthur followed after them. "You have no idea, Francis."

All of the apartment buildings in the complex came with two washers and two dryers in the basement of the building. Arthur and Francis put a load in each washer and settled down for the wait. Arthur had brought down his book and Francis his sketchbook. By the time the washers were done, Arthur had finished his novel and Francis had spent entirely too much time watching his facial expressions as he read. Arthur transferred the two loads into the dryers and Francis filled one washer for the last load of laundry and then it was time for Francis to go to work.

Francis left with a promise to be back to make dinner for the two of them and an apology for being unable to help finish with the laundry.

* * *

Arthur was alone in the basement of Francis's apartment building folding laundry when he came across something he hadn't expected to see: a horribly short pair of boxers colored to look like the French flag. Arthur's mind went back to a few days previous when the whole mess that led to him staying with Francis occurred and the short trip Francis took him on to cheer him up. They had stopped at a shop geared towards tourists and Francis had joked about the stupid shorts but Arthur had never actually thought the Frenchman purchased them.

"You are something else entirely, Francis." Arthur muttered as he held up the shorts. A sudden image of Francis  _in_ the shorts came to mind and Arthur flushed to the tips of his ears. Quickly folding the shorts and putting them with the rest of Francis's clothing, Arthur banished the image from his mind. He had no idea where that image came from and no interest in exploring it any more than absolutely necessary. It was embarrassing how easily flustered Arthur became when it came to Francis. The bloody man wasn't even around and Arthur was blushing.

Arthur forced himself to focus on the task at hand and forget about the ridiculous shorts at the top of Francis's clothing pile.

* * *

When Francis returned home from work, Arthur was seated on the floor of his living room, trying and blatantly failing to teach Alfred how to sit.

"How long have you been at that,  _mon ami_?" Francis asked as he hung up his coat. Arthur looked away from Alfred with an irritated expression.

"Longer than I would care to admit." Arthur grumbled, pushing himself to his feet and brushing off his clothes. "Welcome home."

Francis ignored the thrill that went through him at the simple two-word phrase Arthur greeted him with. Francis was absolutely hopeless when it came to Arthur and it excited him as much as it worried him.

" _Merci._ " Francis headed towards the kitchen. Gilbert sometimes asked him how he could stand to spend hours at work cooking for other people and then go home to cook more and Francis had no answer. There was just something about cooking that put him at ease and he enjoyed it shamelessly.

"How was work?" Arthur asked as he followed. Francis briefly wondered if Arthur was genuinely curious as to how his work day was or if he was just using conversation as an excuse to take a break from dealing with the hyperactive puppy.

"It was good. Well I should not say 'good' considering Gilbert set himself on fire this afternoon but otherwise it went well."

"Is he alright?"

"Oh yes he is fine. Unfortunately it was not the first time and undoubtedly it will not be the last time. The only thing truly damaged was his uniform and his pride."

Arthur shook his head, sitting down at the island as Francis got to work preparing something for their dinner. "What was he doing that he managed to catch himself on fire?"

Francis shrugged one shoulder. "He was distracted, not focusing on his work and being careless." Francis made a face. "He has been like that the past few days but Gilbert does not often like to talk about what is bothering him."

The kitchen fell into a quiet lull, the silence broken only by the clang of pans moving around and Francis preparing food. After a few minutes Francis glanced back at Arthur who looked away quickly, face flushing.

"It is quite nice outside I was thinking we could eat on the balcony again." Francis decided to have a little mercy on the Englishman and not tease him for being caught staring, especially considering Francis was guilty of the exact same thing earlier that day. "Would you mind-"

"Setting the table?" Arthur finished the thought before Francis could even ask. Francis smiled.

" _Merci_."

" _De rien._ " Arthur replied without thinking, standing up to retrieve the plates from the cupboard. Francis paused to watch Arthur, to see if he realized he replied to Francis in French but if Arthur was aware of the slip or the eyes watching him he didn't show it.

By the time Arthur and Francis had finished dinner and cleaned up afterwards it was nearing nine o'clock at night. For a while the two stayed in the living room not doing much of anything as they stalled. Finally, however, Alice who was aware of that something was happening that night meowed at Arthur's feet insistently.

"I suppose we should get going." Arthur muttered, leaning down to pick up the impatient feline. Alice settled against him comfortably, glad to be acknowledged by Arthur. She wasn't entirely sure what was happening but she was fairly certain they were leaving the home of Francis and Françoise. Still unsure of what to think of the strange Frenchman, Alice would be glad to get back to Arthur's usual schedule free of other humans and felines.

"Let me help you take your things back over." Francis offered. Arthur shook his head, waving off the offer.

"Thank you but I already took most of it over while you were at work. All I have left is Alice and Alfred." Arthur turned away to slip on his shoes and grab his coat. It was warm enough still that he didn't think he would need to wear it for the short walk back to his flat. Francis appeared behind him a second later accompanied by Alfred on his bright blue leash, tail wagging.

"At least let me walk you home."

Surprisingly Arthur replied with nothing more than a smile and the two left Francis's apartment a few minutes later. Even at a leisurely pace the walk to Arthur's flat was relatively short.

"Did it take you long to move everything back?" Francis asked as they walked into Arthur's building. Arthur shook his head.

"It took two trips, both of which Alfred accompanied me on." The small dog barked as if he knew he was being talked about. Francis shushed the hyper active canine who barked a second time in reply. Arthur tried not to laugh as Francis scowled at the puppy.

"At least my apartment will be rid of you,  _perturbateur_." Francis muttered. Alfred turned his head, bit onto his leash and shook as if trying to yank it out of Francis's hands.

Arthur started up the stairs leaving Francis to wrestle the dog up the stairs.

Francis made it up stairs a few minutes after Arthur had unlocked his door and let Alice get resettled in the apartment. He was carrying Alfred who had started his favorite game of trying to lick Francis's face. To Francis's absolute horror, Alfred won most rounds of this game.

Francis brought Alfred into Arthur's apartment and made a face at the dog. "Good riddance."

Arthur snorted. "You're not fooling anyone. You like him."

Francis shook his head. "You are quite mistaken,  _mon ami_."

Smiling to himself Arthur walked Francis to the door, pulling it partially shut behind him as they went into the hallway.

"Thank you for walking us back over and for allowing us to stay with you."

Francis tried not to roll his eyes. "Of course, Arthur. You're welcome any time."

Arthur shook his head. "Really Francis despite all these years of living near each other we hardly knew each other you didn't have to take us in and host us like you did. It saved me from a lot of trouble. Thank you."

Francis gave Arthur a quick peck on the cheek. "It was really no trouble." Francis turned to leave but didn't make it as far as the stair case before he turned back to stand before Arthur once again.

Before Arthur had the chance to ask what Francis was doing he cupped Arthur's face in his hands and pressed an open mouth kiss to Arthur's lips that left him breathless.

"What in the world was that for?" Arthur asked once he regained enough composure to speak.

"Just in case you had any misgivings that the end of your stay with me was the end of this." Francis gave Arthur a quick peck on lips. " _Bonne nuit_ Arthur, sleep well."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....Please be nice to me it's my birthday tomorrow


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating has been lowered
> 
> I am so sorry

The first thing Arthur did after running through his usual morning routine was call his vet’s office. Out of pure dumb luck, there was a cancelation that hadn’t been filled and if Arthur could bring Alfred by around three in the afternoon, he vet was sure they could take care of some shots and a basic check up to make sure he was healthy puppy before Arthur gave him to the happy couple on Sunday.

Following the phone call, Arthur set a time to remind him of when he would need to get ready, Arthur started cleaning. He hadn’t been home for a week but there had been people in his flat trying to fix things not to mention he hadn’t swept or dusted before leaving to stay with Francis. Convincing himself that the deep cleaning was necessary Arthur lost himself in the work.

He certainly didn’t allow himself to think of how empty the flat seemed.

He absolutely would not dwell on how he would turn around some times and expect to see a head of blond hair in his peripheral vision.

And it was just foolish to think it odd for Alice to be without a large, white companion as she napped.

* * *

The first thing Francis did upon waking up the morning after Arthur moved back home was get ready for work. He wouldn’t be there to greet Arthur if the Englishman took a walk that day, but considering Arthur still wasn’t back to work Francis figured it would not be too much of an issue. He also made a point to simply ignore the thought that it would be entirely possible for Arthur to have been called back to work recently and Francis would know nothing about it.

  
The most surprising thing for Francis when he arrived at work was that Gilbert was also there. Sitting on the sidewalk outside the employee entrance with a forlorn expression.

“Either I am really late to start prep this morning, or you are very lost Gilbert. And I truly hope it is not the first option.” Francis said as a greeting. Gilbert was hardly on time for his shifts at the restaurant. There was no reason for him to be there nearly three hours early for prep.

Silence settled over the two men and finally Francis sat down on the sidewalk beside his friend.

“I hate to say this Gilbert but I am not much help if you are not willing to tell me what is wrong. And something is obviously wrong, _mon ami_.”

Gilbert sighed, the first sign of acknowledgement Francis had received since he arrived, and ran a hand over his face. “Liz and I are no longer involved.”

Francis tried to reign in his surprised expression. “Are you…”

“We’re still friends.”

Francis pursed his lips. That hadn’t exactly been his question. Honestly he wasn’t surprised that Gilbert and Elizabeta had plans to continue being friends. For as good as friends he, Gilbert, and Antonio were, Elizabeta had still always been one of Gilbert’s closest friends.

“Why had you decided to…end your other arrangement?” Francis tried to approach the topic as delicately as possible.

Gilbert sighed once again, dropping his hands away from his face in order to lean back and look up to the cloudy sky.

“We have both felt…oddly about our arrangement recently. But now…” Gilbert’s expression darkened as he tried to find the words he wanted. “Liz is pregnant.”

This time Francis couldn’t contain his surprise. “She is?”

“It’s not mine.” Gilbert immediately defended. “I know you are probably hesitant to believe that Franny but it’s not.”

“If you say it is not your child Gil, I believe you.” Francis readjusted his sitting position. “There’s something else bothering you though. I know you too well _mon ami_ for you to pretend there is not something else.”

“I’m actually the one who called it off, first.” Gilbert whispered. “Before I even knew about the baby.”

Francis wanted to urge Gilbert on but he knew his friend. If he wanted Gilbert to tell him the whole story the only way Gilbert would do that was on his own time.

“I’m afraid I might be losing Birdie.” Gilbert let out a shaky breath. “And it _scares_ me.” 

* * *

The veterinarian appointment went on for a little over an hour but Alfred was released with a clean bill of health. Arthur picked up some brochures about possible shots and procedures Alfred may need in the future, including getting fixed, though he wasn’t sure if they were more for him or for Alfred and Kiku. It would have been nice to get that particular surgery out of the way so that Alfred and Kiku would not need to worry about it but the vet had concluded after the check-up that Alfred the dog was still a little young for the procedure. Well it was something that could be discussed later. Arthur was just happy Alfred was healthy.

Arthur returned Alfred back to his flat. He fed Alfred and Alice their dinner before leaving once again. Having been away, Arthur didn’t have anything in his flat for _his_ dinner and he figured a grocery trip was in order.

* * *

Francis tried his best to work as if everything was normal but half way through the first shift, he had to send Gilbert home. He just wasn’t himself, and was even more distracted than he had been in the past. Francis stayed for the rest of his shift, and then worked over time but he felt a bit out of it too. It was like he going through the motions without truly enjoying his time in the kitchen. Gilbert’s words were weighing on him.

For one of his closest friends to be so affected, to be having such a serious issue and with a person Francis didn’t know anything about. It was stressful to say the least. And admittedly he felt like a poor friend for not knowing something was going on that was bothering Gilbert _this_ much. Even knowing that the only reason he was so in the dark was because Gilbert didn’t like to let people in, Francis felt guilty.

When his shift was finally over, Francis got in his car and started driving. He didn’t realize he wasn’t going home until he pulled up outside of Antonio’s home. A light was on in the kitchen as well as the living room. Francis knew there was a good chance Lovino was also at Antonio’s but he was going to risk the Italian man’s temper to speak with Antonio. Hopefully the Spaniard would know what to do for their heartbroken friend.

And of course there was another part of Francis that did not want to go home to an empty apartment. He was here because of Gilbert but he wasn’t just there for Gilbert and he couldn’t deny that. 

* * *

Arthur settled into bed with Alice and Alfred curled up next to him but he couldn’t seem to get comfortable. He wanted to believe it was his new mattress still being foreign to him. But as the night got later, it was becoming increasingly difficult to convince himself that a new mattress was all there was to his discomfort.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so much better than the last update I promise

Arthur woke up to his phone ringing so loudly it seemed like a siren. The call ended before he managed to answer it but the screen stayed lit with the alert of a missed called. Or to be a little more accurate, a dozen or so missed calls, plus some texts. Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, Arthur sat up and tried to make sense of why so many people had been trying to contact him. Glancing to the side he noted the light was blinking rapidly on the base of his landline phone as well. Voicemail full.

Not sure what he should check first, Arthur pushed back his blankets and started to climb out of bed. Before he made it to his feet there was a pounding on the door.

“Bloody hell.” Arthur swore, stumbling out of his room to get the door as whoever was there continued to pound against the wood with increased urgency.

“What in God’s name-” Arthur couldn’t even get his question out as he opened the door and Alfred shoved past him into his flat.

“A-Alfred!” Arthur called after the blond who was yelling something about a television. “Don’t just barge into people’s homes like that! What is wrong with you?”

Matthew and Kiku both stood in the hallway wearing identical apologetic expressions.

“Well good morning to you both.” Arthur greeted stiffly. “Would you like to come in?”

“I-I am so sorry about Alfred, A-Arthur. It’s just that-”

“Arthur! Get in here! This is urgent!” Alfred’s shout cut off his fiancé. Gritting his teeth, Arthur waved for Matthew and Kiku to come inside and turned to go see what Alfred was shouting about.

“Alfred this needs to-” Arthur’s words died in his throat as he processed what was on his television screen. A local news station was reporting on yet another attack that had been directed at Arthur’s accounting firm. However the perpetrator had been caught in the act and stopped before yet another building was torched. As a young reporter excitedly accounted exactly what had happened, two police officers led a disgruntled man to the police cruiser parked outside the firm’s temporary office building. The man tried to hide his face from the camera but it wasn’t hard to recognize him.

The officers were leading Arthur’s _boss_ to the cruiser, handcuffed and all.  

Arthur stumbled, grabbing onto Alfred’s arm for support. “What…What am I looking at?”

Alfred and Matthew both helped Arthur sit on the couch. Alfred sat down next to him, patting Arthur’s arm in an attempt to be comforting. Matthew disappeared into the kitchen to make tea while Kiku stood by Alfred’s side.

“Apparently your boss had something to do with everything that’s been happening to the company. So far they know he wasn’t working alone but they don’t have any names, or even a motive, but he was caught attempting to start another fire. It was your _boss_ all along.” Alfred was talking a mile a minute but even if he hadn’t Arthur was fairly certain he would still have trouble understanding what was being said to him. Or what he was witnessing on the television.

Alfred opened his mouth to speak again but Kiku silenced him with a hand on his shoulder. Arthur obviously still needed some time to process what was happening.

After a few minutes Matthew came in and handed Arthur a cup of tea. Arthur sent him a grateful look and took a few small sips.

Thoughts were still flying through his head as he tried to process…everything. Sure Arthur’s boss had never liked _him_ but to blatantly target his own firm. It just seemed bizarre to Arthur. Perhaps it would make more sense if he got the whole story but even that seemed like a stretch.

Alfred let Arthur finish his tea before he tried speaking again.

“Did you…have any idea this was going on?”

“That my boss was the one harassing his employees and trying to sabotage his own firm?”

“Well the attacking was probably done by some lackeys. Higher up guys like that don’t like to get their hands dirty.”

Arthur gave Alfred a dry look. “This isn’t a superhero movie or a comic. I’m sure people like him get their hands dirty plenty Alfred.”

Alfred started to argue but seemed to decide against it and settled back against the couch as well. Kiku sat down on the other side of Alfred at his insistence and Matthew took the arm chair nearby.

“Now what are you going to do?” Alfred finally asked after a few minutes.

Arthur shook his head. “I have no idea.”

* * *

When Francis woke up he was surprised to find a blanket draped over him. He had fallen asleep on Antonio’s couch the night before and the Spaniard was still asleep next to him in an armchair. Sitting up slowly, Francis grimaced. He knew they had had a little too much to drink the night before but he didn’t think it would quite so bad in the morning.

“So you’re up.”

Turning towards the voice, Francis found Lovino entering the living room from the kitchen, dressed with a travel mug in hand.

“If the bastard wakes up before I’m back I’m going to see Feliciano.” Lovino spoke in a curt, angry tone. Francis was used to the cold shoulder from the Italian who seemed to dislike most people. Lovino tossed a white bottle to Francis as he headed for the door. “I stuck breakfast in the oven to keep it warm but the two of you will probably still need to warm it up. Don’t make a mess of my kitchen.”

Francis looked down at the bottle in his hands, trying not to wince as Lovino slammed the front door shut. Aspirin. Bless that Italian’s grumpy little heart.

* * *

Refusing to let the shocking news of the morning disrupt his day too much, Arthur took a shower once he had finished his tea. He had tried to get his three surprise visitors to leave, assuring them that he was fine-he had just been surprised. But they had insisted on staying. Matthew asked for permission to use his kitchen and apparently had plans to make them all breakfast. Arthur gave up trying to argue with all of them and got ready for the day. It became obvious to Arthur once he left his shower however, that he should have pushed a little harder for them to leave.

Alfred and…Alfred were locked in an intense game of tug-o-war on Arthur’s living room floor with Kiku and Alice watching from the couch.

“Arthur, when did you get a dog?” Alfred asked, clearly enjoying the game. The young dog was not giving up easily, even as Arthur joined them in the living room which normally would have distracted the dog long enough for someone to steal the toy from him.

Matthew left the kitchen and started to speak only to see the puppy and whatever he was going to say turned into a surprised “oh” as he looked to Arthur.

“I’m sorry Arthur I forgot about that.” Matthew apologized awkwardly. Arthur waved off the apology as Alfred looked between his brother and cousin from his spot on the floor.

“Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Well since the cat-or rather dog-is now out of the bag I suppose we don’t have a choice.” Arthur muttered. Moving closer, Arthur picked the puppy up off the ground. Surprised, both Alfreds dropped the rope toy. “Alfred, Kiku, this is your wedding gift.”

Alfred stared up at Arthur in complete disbelief.

“I asked Matthew if he thought it would be alright and he thought that it was a good idea I apologize if-”

Finally Alfred scrambled to his feet, cutting Arthur off as he did to take the dog from his arms and pull it closer to him.

“Really? You got us a dog? And such a cute one at that look at this face.” Turning on his heel Alfred went to sit on the couch next to Kiku. “Keeks look at this cutie.”

Arthur laughed. “I’ll take that as you like him.”

“What’s his name?” Alfred asked, laughing as the puppy attempted to lick Kiku’s face much to the man’s chagrin. Arthur blushed faintly in embarrassment.

“Well…I’ve been calling him Alfred.”

Matthew and Alfred both looked at him in surprise. “Really?”

Arthur shrugged. “That’s what made me think of giving him to you as a gift. He reminded me of you.”

Alfred looked to Kiku. “Well Keeks it looks like we’ve got an Alfred Jr. already. Hope you weren’t too set on that being our firstborn’s name.”

“Alfred,”

“We can call him A.J. for short! That way there’s no confusion!” Whatever argument Kiku may have had seemed to melt away at his fiancé’s exclamation and Kiku simply smiled.

“A.J.’s perfect.”

“You’re perfect.” Alfred said without a second thought, leaning over to kiss Kiku’s cheek.

Blushing, Kiku put a hand to his cheek. “Alfred.” He scolded. Alfred rolled his eyes.

“You’re lucky it was just your cheek this time, buddy.”

Smiling, Matthew shook his head. “And on that note, breakfast is ready.”

 

* * *

“Lovi’s too good to me.” Antonio muttered as he sprawled on the couch after breakfast. Francis had to agree. At least as far as breakfast went, though he and Antonio took so long getting up it was their lunch, it _was_ quite delicious. “I always eat too much when he cooks but it’s just so good.”

Despite wanting to do something similar to Antonio, Francis knew he needed to get going. Especially considering he left Françoise all alone last night and most of the morning without planning to. And Arthur was back home so no one had fed her breakfast.

“You’re leaving now, aren’t you?” Antonio said after a moment from the couch. Francis sighed.

“Yes I need to get home.” Antonio sighed and sat up.

“I hope Gil is okay.”

Francis gave a half-hearted smile. “I hope so too, Toni.”

Antonio stood up and gave his friend a hug. “I hope we start getting this relationship thing right one of these days.”

Francis laughed, hugging Antonio back and kissing both his cheeks as a goodbye. “I definitely hope so.”

 

Francis was nearing his apartment building when a familiar brown puppy ran towards him and began running circles around his legs, tying Francis up in his leash as he went.

“Nice to see you too, Alfred.” Francis greeted, trying his best to untangle himself from the leash. Turning back in the direction Alfred had come from, Francis expected to see Arthur coming towards him. Instead he was surprised to see the actual Alfred and Kiku, both ready to apologize for the puppy’s behavior.

“Good afternoon,” Francis greeted, handing off the leash to Alfred. “I didn’t expect to see the two of you here, especially not with him.” Francis sent a pointed look to the dog who wagged his tail happily at the attention.

Alfred laughed. “Yeah well we kind of dropped in unexpectedly on Arthur and he didn’t have much of a chance to hide A.J.”

“A.J?”

“Well we couldn’t really keep calling him Alfred. That’d start to get a little confusing.”

Francis smiled softly. “I suppose it would.”

“ _Bonjour_ , Francis.” Francis nearly missed the quiet voice that came from behind Alfred as Matthew finally caught up with his brother and Kiku.

“Ah Mathieu!” Francis exclaimed, pulling the younger man in for a hug despite his half-hearted protests. “It has been too long.”

Matthew returned Francis’s hug, nodding in agreement to what the Frenchman was saying.

“Why the family trip to visit Arthur today? If you do not mind my asking.” Francis asked as he pulled away from the hug. “Especially a surprise trip at that.”

Alfred’s eyes widened. “We needed to make sure he was okay after the announcement.”

Francis’s brow furrowed. “What announcement?”

Alfred ran a hand over his face mumbling something about the uninformed masses. “Does no one watch the news anymore? Or read a paper? Or even a few tweets or _anything_?”

Matthew sent Francis an apologetic look for Alfred’s outburst. “The news this morning was about the man who had been targeting Arthur’s work.”

“What? They caught him? Who was it?”

Matthew and Alfred shared a look. “Well uh, it was Arthur’s boss.”

Francis’s mouth fell open. “ _Pardon_?”

All three of them nodded, grim expressions on their faces. “It was a shock to everyone really. Arthur had started getting some calls from his coworkers so we figured it was probably best to let him be as he figured things out.” Alfred explained.

“I see.” Francis looked out towards Arthur’s building, part of him wishing he could march over there and make sure everything was alright. But there was probably a lot going on now for Arthur and he didn’t need even more company while he tried to sort things out. “Well thank you for letting me know, and I’m glad someone checked on him after that.” Francis exchanged farewell hugs with the three of them.

“I will see you all on Sunday.”

“See you.”

 

Exchanging final good byes with the family, Francis finally made it inside and fed Françoise some lunch.

“ _Je suis désolé, Françoise._ The night got away from us I’m afraid.” Francis sat on the floor besides Françoise’s food dishes. When she had her fill of food she happily climbed into his lap, already purring in contentment and ready for a nap.

Things were changing and very different from what she was used to but Françoise had a feeling these changes were for the better. For her and for Francis.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh...Happy Holidays?

Saturday morning came and left with the same flurry of phone calls Friday afternoon had boasted. Arthur, and in turn Alice, was so relieved when the phone finally fell silent he nearly cheered when a full hour passed without any disturbance. And so when the phone rang yet again just after one, Arthur had half a mind to not answer it at all. Instead Arthur simply ignored the pointed look his oddly perceptive feline gave him as he picked up the phone.

“Yes?” Aware that he hadn’t quite gotten all the hostility he was feeling out of his voice, Arthur was surprised to hear a laugh on the other end.

“Having a bit of a bad day, _mon cher_?”

Francis. Well perhaps the laugh wasn’t quite so surprising then.

“I’ve had more conversations with coworkers over the past two days than I thought knew me. It’s been a rather bizarre, exhausting experience.” Arthur sighed, running a hand over his face as he spoke. He could hear Francis laugh again but it was much more comforting sound than he ever would have thought it would be.

“Well I don’t mean to disturb you _mon chou_ , but I thought we should make a plan for tomorrow.”

Arthur sat up straighter. Of course. Alfred and Kiku’s wedding was tomorrow. The wedding he was going to _with_ Francis.

“A-Ah right. Of course. A plan.” With a gentle nudge, Arthur freed himself from Alice and went to find the invitation and the papers he had written notes about the ceremony on.

“The reception doesn’t start until four, though there is a bit of a drive.” Francis said. Arthur wasn’t quite sure why Alfred and Kiku had chosen to have their reception in a town forty-five minutes away. Arthur shuffled the papers around a few times once he found them, almost unsure of whether he should mention it or not.

“Actually, Alfred asked me to come to the wedding itself.”

“Oh Arthur that’s so sweet. I’m sure it will be very lovely.” Francis gushed. Arthur smiled to himself through his nervousness. Francis probably loved weddings.

“Would…Would you like to come with me?”

There was silence on the other line and at first Arthur worried, absurd as it was, that he had overstepped.

“Are you sure that’s alright, Arthur? I thought the ceremony was to be just a family affair.”

Arthur sighed, relieved despite himself. “Yes well I had thought so as well but the conversation, or rather order went a little something like,” Arthur cleared his throat and attempted his best American accent. “ ‘Francis is like family to Mattie which means he’s family to us, bring him with you.’ “

Francis laughed. “I hope our new distant familial status doesn’t make things awkward between us.”

Groaning, Arthur ran a hand over his face. “Don’t make this weirder.”

Francis’s laughter settled down but Arthur could still hear the smile in his words when Francis asked for the time of the ceremony.

All in all it took the two of them another twenty minutes to work out a plan for the following day mostly thanks to Francis’s jokes and requests for Arthur to repeat his American accent. Arthur hung up grumbling about stupid Americans and ridiculous Frenchmen but he couldn’t seem to keep down his smile.

* * *

Matthew was sitting on a stool in Alfred and Kiku’s kitchen nursing a beer and watching his twin brother with a bemused expression.

“You, the master of extravagance, don’t want a bachelor party?” Matthew was still baffled by what he was hearing. The back of Alfred’s neck flushed red, letting Mattie know he was in fact embarrassed, but Alfred kept his back to him under the guise of looking for food in the fridge. As he had been doing for the last fifteen minutes. He was lucky Kiku wasn’t here to scold him.

“It’s not really a big deal Mattie I mean, it’s not like you planned anything anyhow.”

Matthew ran a hand over his face. “Well no I didn’t but I’m sure it wouldn’t be that-”

“There isn’t anyone to come so why bother?” Alfred said resolutely, closing the fridge door empty handed.

“What are you talking about, Alfred?”

The blond sighed, turning around to finally face his confused twin. “It’s not as if I really have friends to invite to a party.”

Matthew replied with an arched look. “Have you seen your guest list for tomorrow by any chance?”

With a dramatic groan Alfred flopped over to rest his head on the counter top. Matthew winced, there was no way the position was comfortable considering Alfred’s height.

“I mean like close friends Mattie c’mon. People like Ludwig and Feliciano to Kiku.”

The said trio of friends was currently out doing something Matthew assumed was supposed to be a bachelor party for Kiku but Matthew couldn’t quite picture the three of them getting into the same shenanigans most people expected out of such shindigs. The kind of shenanigans Matthew quite frankly expected Alfred to want to be a part of.

“Al, I’m still not really following here. Are you trying to tell me Mr. Popularity has no friends?”

Alfred turned his head to send a half-hearted glare to his brother without lifting his head. It might have seemed harsher had his glasses not been skewed by his position and his golden hair a messy halo around his face.

“Mattie, I have you, my brother; Arthur, sort of, not that he seems like the partying type anyhow. Gil except that the two of you have been acting weird around each other and I don’t need that kind of negative vibe the night before my wedding, and Kiku, my fiancé, just in case you forgot why he isn’t currently around. That is my oh-so-lengthy list of close personal friends I could potentially invite to this impromptu bachelor party you suddenly seem oddly keen on me having.”

Matthew fidgeted in his seat. Well when he put it like that…

“What-What about Yao or Ivan?” Matthew suggested. Alfred made a face.

“I wouldn’t exactly call what I have with either of them a friendship.” Well he couldn’t argue with that.

“Yong Soo?”

“He’s out of the country until next month.”

“I’m surprised he’s missing his cousin’s wedding.”

Alfred shrugged but didn’t comment.

Matthew sighed. “What about Toris? You two are close.”

Alfred was quiet for a few minutes. “We haven’t really talked recently.” He finally muttered as if it was just occurring to him.

“Is he coming to the reception tomorrow?”

Alfred nodded. “Him and a plus one.”

“Should I call him?”

Alfred shook his head. “It’s fine Mattie, really. I don’t need one.”

Matthew tried his best to level Alfred with a harsh look. “What has gotten into you Alfred?”

For a while Alfred was quiet, tracing lines absentmindedly on the countertop. “Bachelor parties are supposed to be like the last night of freedom right?”

Matthew made a face. “Well yes I think that’s the general idea.”

“Well that’s just dumb because it’s not like I’m trapped. I’m the one who proposed and the only thing I want to celebrate is marrying Keeks tomorrow.”

Matthew rolled his eyes unable to fight the smile brought on by his brother’s words. “God you’re such a romantic it’s disgusting.”

“Whatever!” Alfred threw a dishtowel at Matthew but he was beaming a ridiculous love-struck smile all the while.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so grossly short and not very important or telling but next chapter, even being about Alfred and Kiku's wedding, is so focused Arthur and Francis its ridiculous and its probably gonna be crazy long so I just wanted to be done with this pointless chapter and move on.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry

Francis took a deep breath, adjusting his appearance in the mirror for the third…fifth time of the morning. Even Françoise was growing impatient with his pacing.

“This is the last time, _ma petite,_ I promise.” Francis said as he pulled on his suit jacket. Françoise sighed heavily from her place on the bed and curled up for a nap. He wasn’t sure he would have believed himself from her position either. Thankfully for the both of the he didn’t have a chance to change again as someone knocked on his door.

Giving himself one last once-over Francis flipped his bedroom light off and went to the door.

Arthur looked really good in a suit. It wasn’t any news to Francis, he had seen Arthur in a suit countless times-Arthur wore a suit more often than not. However something about the dark three-piece suit and thin emerald tie flattered Arthur more than any of his other suits before.

Arthur cocked his head to the side as Francis studied him. “Is something the matter, Francis?”

Francis flashed a smile. “Of course not _mon amour,_ just blown away by your beauty.” Arthur rolled his eyes but Francis didn’t miss the blush spanning across his cheeks. “Come in, I’m almost ready.”

 Arthur pointedly ignored the fluttering in his chest as he followed the Frenchman into his flat. Between Francis’s flirting and simply looking impeccable in a suit and tie with his hair tied back, by a ribbon of all things, Arthur needed to at least appear to be in control of the situation. Even if it was only to himself.

Francis disappeared into his bedroom and returned a few minutes later with shoes in hand. Arthur thought better than to ask about the apologies to Françoise he had heard while Francis was in his bedroom.

Arthur stood quietly near the door while Francis bustled around the flat. The Frenchman only had one shoe on when he remembered his gift for the couple was still in the hall closet and he left to get it. His second shoe only made it half way onto his foot before he disappeared again. A moment later Francis called for Arthur from, what Arthur could only assume to be, the back room. Francis’s studio.

A bit hesitant Arthur slipped off his shoes and made his way towards Francis. The door to the studio was open, letting warm sunlight filter into the hallway. A paint-splattered plastic tarp covered a dark hardwood floor. Canvases were propped against the walls, those with paintings well out numbering the blank ones. A wooden easel stood in the center of the room, the canvas turned away from the door. Francis stood beside it holding another canvas, studying it with a harsh expression. His second shoe was on the floor as if it had been kicked off in a rush.

Arthur picked up the shoe with a sigh before he moved further into the room to join Francis. Francis pointedly turned the easel further away from Arthur before he turned the canvas in his arms. Arthur stopped short. Alfred and Kiku had been painted across the surface but it may as well have been a photograph for the likeness of the two. Kiku was looking down, smiling at something in his hands while Alfred looked on from the side. He looked so damn in love Arthur had a hard time believing this was just a painting staring back at him.

Arthur tore his gaze away to meet Francis’s eye. “Francis, this is…amazing.”

Francis replied with a sheepish smile. “I used a bit of…artistic license for the clothing and setting. And I’m afraid I technically did not ask for their permission to paint this.”

“Is this their wedding gift?” Arthur asked, ignoring Francis’s excuses. “Is this what kept you cooped up in here for hours?”

Francis’s eyes flickered towards the easel, towards the hidden canvas. “No not exactly. I painted this nearly a year ago and promptly forgot about it. But when I remembered it I thought…well I thought they might appreciate it more than the empty walls of my studio do. What do you think? Should I give it to them?”

“I think it’d be crazy not to. This is beautiful, Francis. I’m sure they’ll love it.”

Francis beamed. “Well then I’m ready to go.”

Arthur held up the missing shoe.

Francis’s head dropped with a sigh. “Alright I’m almost ready to go.” Trading the canvas for his shoe Francis finished the last step of his preparation. Taking the canvas back from Arthur with a smile Francis headed towards the door.

Before he could stop himself, Arthur’s eyes drifted towards the easel once again. He couldn’t help but wonder what painting Francis could possibly be trying to hide. He wanted to ask, he could feel the question dancing on the tip of his tongue. He knew Francis was dedicated to art but he had seen so little of the Frenchman’s work.

A hand wrapped around his wrist. Turning, Arthur’s gaze met Francis’s serious, blue eyes. “Not yet, _mon chou_ , not yet.”

Without another word Francis pulled Arthur from the apartment and towards the car lot.

 

The two pulled up outside of city hall with fifteen minutes to spare. Arthur glanced back at the painting from where it sat propped in Francis’s back seat. Francis sat beside him in the driver’s seat with his hands still on the wheel, a serious expression on his face as if he was considering something very carefully.

“Francis, if they don’t know you painted this…if they didn’t ask for it, what possessed you _to_ paint it?” Arthur asked. Instead of answering him Francis smiled and climbed out of the car. A moment later he opened Arthur’s door for him, offering his arm to help Arthur out of the car. Arthur tried to level him with a serious look but Francis was unperturbed.

Arthur allowed Francis to lead him into city hall, arm in arm.

The third floor hallway, where the two had been directed by a rather irritated looking young woman at the front desk, was a crowded mess of activity. Alfred’s head bobbed above most of the crowd while he appeared to be having about three different conversations. Arthur thought it might be Kiku hovering on the edges of the crowd but every time there was a shift a different family member flitted to his side and began fussing with his hair or clothing or general person.

“I thought this was supposed to be a small ceremony.” Francis whispered.

“Makes you wonder about the reception, doesn’t it?” Arthur replied.

Matthew emerged from the masses a moment later, greeting them both with a hug and an apologetic smile.

“Glad you could make it. I’m sure the grooms would love to greet you as well but they’re a bit occupied.”

Arthur and Francis were both prepared to reassure him it was no problem when someone else joined them on the floor. Giving the two another apologetic smile Matthew turned his attention to the man. If his formal attire and sleek black folder were anything to go by Arthur was guessing he was the judge.

Sure enough the crowd was swiftly ushered into a small courtroom. Alfred and Kiku joined the judge in the front of the room. Matthew and a dark haired man Arthur assumed to be Kiku’s older brother, Yao, joined them a few seconds later. Everyone else settled into large, wooden pews.

Francis was scanning the crowd, noting who he knew and didn’t when he felt Arthur stiffen beside him. Looking over Francis followed Arthur’s gaze to a tall, pale haired man sitting near the front. Even sitting in a pew the man towered over everyone else around.

“What the bloody hell is _he_ doing here?” Arthur hissed.

“Who?” Pale skin and hair made Francis immediately think of Gilbert but even from their position in the back Francis could tell it was not his friend Arthur was glaring at.

As if he could feel the eyes on him, the man turned around and met their gaze. With an oddly chilling smile the man waved and turned back to the front. Francis looked to Arthur, hoping the Englishman would be forthcoming with an explanation of the strange interaction. Arthur sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Ivan Braginsky. He attended the same high school as Alfred and I.” Francis suspected there was more to the story but Arthur refused to elaborate. The judge called for their attention just as Francis finally caught Arthur’s eye.

“Saved by the bell.” Francis muttered. Arthur looked away. 

* * *

The ceremony had already started when someone slid into the pew beside Francis. Surprised, he and Arthur both turned to see Gilbert giving them a sly grin.

“Got lost on the way.” Gil supplied as his excuse. Arthur scowled and turned back to the front. Francis only rolled his eyes.

“Luckily you haven’t missed the best part.”

Covering his laugh with his hand, Gilbert bumped shoulders with Francis and focused his gaze on the couple. Thankfully the two were too wrapped up in each other to notice the interruption.

The three men sitting in the back pew however did not miss the dark look that passed over Matthew’s face when he looked in their direction. 

* * *

 

When it came time for the vows, Alfred went first. Arthur wasn’t sure what to expect when he heard the two men would be exchanging vows they wrote themselves. The thought that Alfred would deliver his vows in a different language however _never_ crossed his mind. If the complete astonishment on Kiku’s face was anything to judge by, he hadn’t been informed of his fiancé’s choice to deliver his vows in Japanese either. Arthur had no idea what Alfred said through the entirety of his speech but the emotion behind his voice was so raw he felt as if he had understood it anyways.

As Alfred was finishing Arthur heard a sniffle beside him. Francis and Gilbert were both wiping their eyes by the time Kiku was pulling out index cards to start his vows.

“You’re crying?” Arthur whispered, incredulously, “Do you even know what he said?”

Gilbert shook his head. “It was beautiful though.”

Before Arthur could come up with a reply, Francis gestured towards the front. “This right here is the answer to your question from before _mon amour,_ the inspiration for my painting.”

Kiku’s vows were shorter than Alfred’s. But Arthur could feel the same deep love behind each word.

And Alfred wore the same expression Francis had captured on canvas. The same pure, raw expression Arthur had seen him wear at the diner two weeks ago.

“He really loves him, doesn’t he?” Arthur muttered.

Francis intertwined his fingers with Arthur’s in reply.

 

Francis forcefully dragged Arthur and Gilbert with him to congratulate the newly-weds once the ceremony ended.

Alfred and Kiku both were smiling when they approached, their hands intertwined. Alfred insisted on hugging the three of them. And even Kiku gave little protest to being dragged into the group hug by his husband.

Francis and Arthur hung back from the crowd after giving their congratulations. Francis wanted to give the couple his painting before the reception but he hated to steal them away from their spotlight, even for a moment. And so they waited.

Francis was prepared for Arthur to let go of his hand at any moment but the Englishman stayed by his side, fingers intertwined. Mindlessly Arthur rubbed his thumb against Francis’s hand and there was hardly a reaction from him when Francis squeezed his hand. Trying not to dwell on just how happy the small gestures made him, Francis tried his best to focus on the crowd.

Gilbert had abandoned him and Arthur after the group hug for his younger brother. The normally stoic, younger Beilschmidt wore a faint smile. His boyfriend hung off his arm chattering happily, switching between talking to the two German brothers and to Kiku whenever there was a lull. Matthew hung close to his brother’s side, pointedly ignoring Gilbert’s presence.

“Does Mathieu seem…off today to you?” Francis asked, leaning closer to Arthur. The Englishman fidgeted from the close contact but didn’t move away.

Arthur started to disagree but trailed off part way through. “He does seem especially bothered by Gilbert doesn’t he?”

Francis hummed his agreement. “I thought they were friends, not close but still friends.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed, now focusing on the group as well. Alfred and Kiku had broken away from the others to take pictures with some of Kiku’s family but Matthew continued to act as if the couple was a barrier between him and the trio of men who had been with them.

“Now that I’m thinking about it, Matthew was a little odd a few weeks ago as well.” Arthur began. Interest piqued, Francis turned to keep his full attention on him. “When I met with him, Alfred, and Kiku for brunch Gilbert and his uh…friend, Elizaveta, came in. Matthew dropped very nearly his entire breakfast when he saw them.”

Francis wore a thoughtful expression, considering what Arthur had told him with everything else he knew. A moment later he pulled out his phone, firing away a text message faster than Arthur could read.

Less than a minute later Gilbert pulled out his phone. Arthur watched curiously as Gilbert’s face paled, red eyes wide as he read something on his screen. Gilbert looked up from the phone and met their gaze.

Quickly looking away, Gilbert slid his phone back into his pocket and turned to his brother. A few moments later he was gone.

Before Arthur could ask Francis for an explanation Alfred was at his side, grabbing his hand and pulling him away.

“Come on, we’re taking pictures!” Alfred insisted. Matthew was being tugged right alongside Arthur. Francis started to laugh at the grumpy expression the two blonds wore but Matthew caught his hand as well and pulled him along.

When Alfred had finally exhausted every possible combination of people and poses for pictures it was time to part ways.

“Wait here, just for a moment.” Francis pleaded with the couple. They agreed, despite looking a bit confused by the request, Francis ran back to the car. He returned with the canvas in hand.

Turning the picture around to face the couple once Francis reached them, he smiled. “I wanted to give you your gift before the reception, canvases are a bit delicate.”

Alfred’s jaw dropped. “You painted this?”

“When I saw the two of you together I knew I had to capture it.”

Matthew expertly took the painting from Francis as Alfred and Kiku pulled him into a hug. Francis pulled away smiling.

“ _Félicitations._ I’m sure the two of you will be very, very happy.”

Alfred’s eyes were misting and he pressed a kiss to Kiku’s temple to hide it.

“We’ll see you at the reception. Congratulations again.” Arthur was the first to finally break away from the group, knowing there was still more for the couple to do before they met their guests elsewhere. Matthew gave him a grateful smile while he ushered the couple away.

On the way back to the car, Franics slid his arm around Arthur’s waist, keeping him close.

“Ready for the reception, _mon ami_?”

“You’re going to make me dance, aren’t you?” Arthur groaned. Francis laughed, placing a chaste kiss on the Englishman’s cheek.

“Absolutely.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit. I have no words, I am so sorry this update has taken so long. There really is no excuse.
> 
> But we're at the end-finally! Woohoo!

“So, shall we dance?”

Arthur lowered his glass to find Francis smirking at him.

“We just got here.” He turned back to the bowl of small peanuts and mints at the table.

“We’ve been here for nearly an hour.” Francis argued.

“People are just having cocktails, not dancing.”

“There’s music.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Barely. It’s just to fill the awkward silences.”

“Dancing could do that.” Francis insisted.

“You have all night to try and make a fool of me, but I’m going to need to be far drunker before I even think about letting you, so I suggest you just be patient.” Arthur said firmly, as if that would be the end of it. Why he ever thought things would work out in his favor, he wasn’t sure.

“Drunker?  Well then, your wish is my command.” Francis plucked Arthur’s freshly emptied glass from his hands and sauntered off towards the bar, ignoring his date’s half-hearted protests.

Once Francis was out of earshot, with no sign of giving up, Arthur sighed. “Oh what the hell, I’m going to need it to get through the night.”

* * *

 While waiting for Arthur’s drink, Francis found himself face to face with Roderich. With a sour look, the man pointedly turned away from him. Francis plastered on a charming smile.

“ _Bonjour,_ Roderich. It’s been so long.”

He got a small huff for his efforts. Unperturbed, he pushed on. “Who are you here with?”

Roderich bristled. “My _wife._ ”

Francis nodded, knowingly. “Ah, yes of course. _D_ _ésol_ _é._ I’m not sure how I forgot. Tell her ‘hello’ for me, yes?”

Roderich took his drinks without a word, storming away from Francis. The Frenchman rolled his eyes. Well, not as if he was particularly fond of Roderich either.

“What in the world did you say to get his knickers in such a twist?”

Francis whirled around to find Arthur watching Roderich’s retreating form with suspicion. “Arthur! Did you miss me?”

“You were taking a suspiciously long time to get a couple of drinks.” Arthur replied simply.

“You can admit you missed me.” Francis teased.

Arthur ignored him to thank the bartender for their drinks. Once they were both armed with alcohol, Arthur threaded his arm through Francis’s and pointed the Frenchman in the opposite direction of their table. The two wandered the room rather aimlessly, occasionally stopping, or more accurately being stopped, to talk to other guests while they waited for the guests of honor. Arthur continuously checked around him, as if looking for someone.

Waiting until they were far enough away for no one to hear them, Francis pulled Arthur to a stop turned to face him. “Is there something wrong, _mon amour_?”

Arthur startled, as if he had somehow forgotten about the man he had been dragging around the ballroom with him. “I’m sorry, Francis.” Arthur sighed.

Francis’s brow furrowed. “Arthur,” The use of his name prompted him to meet Francis’s eye. “What’s wrong?”

Silence stretched between them, long enough for Francis to think Arthur wouldn’t answer the question, but finally he gave a resigned sigh, and closed his eyes. “I saw my mother.”

Francis ran a hand over Arthur’s cheek, before he could think better of it, searching his face for any sign that something had happened. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Help me avoid her for as long as possible?”                                                       

Francis frowned. “You do not have to talk to her.”

“I do. But not right now.”

He didn’t like it, but if Arthur thought that’s what was best, it wasn’t Francis’s place to tell him no. He looked around the ballroom. Francis had never seen a picture of Arthur’s mother, so he had no idea who they were trying to avoid. But he would do his best. “Let’s go check out the gardens?” 

* * *

 

Miraculously, they managed to stay relatively alone in the gardens until the wedding party arrived. Everyone was called to their seats for soup and salads, and best men speeches from Matthew and Feliciano. Matthew’s speech actually earned quite a bit of laughter from the gathered party, but Feliciano’s had them in tears, or close to it.

Arthur’s mood gradually lifted as they ate, and by the time they were discussing dessert, Francis managed to weasel a few laughs out of him. By some chance of fate, they were in a prime position to watch Alfred and Kiku cut into the large wedding cake that sat in a place of honor among a dozen or so other sweets. To absolutely no one’s surprise, Alfred more so smashed the sweet into his new husband’s face than fed it to him. In an entertaining turn of events, Kiku didn’t even bother to pretend to feed Alfred before smearing cake and frosting across his face and glasses.

Servers begun to serve cake while the couple went to clean up after their mess.

“That could make a fun piece.” Francis mused as he accepted the dessert.

“The two of them covered in cake?” Arthur asked.

Francis nodded. “I could do it in frosting. Fun, no?”

“Messy. And wouldn’t it mold?”

“Probably.” Francis studied the frosting on his slice of cake, as if it would provide some kind of inspiration for solving that problem.

“Hey, Francis,”

“Hm?” The moment the Frenchman looked up, Arthur smeared frosting across his nose. Francis blinked owlishly at him, as if he could not quite process what just happened.

“You looked too serious,” Arthur said by way of explanation. “As if the cake had wronged you somehow.”

Arthur seemed to know the moment an idea crossed his mind, but wasn’t fast enough to dodge when Francis lunged for him. Nuzzling against Arthur, he spread frosting across his cheek.

“You’re a menace.” Arthur gasped through his laugher when Francis finally pulled back. His cheek was bright pink with the mixed confection.

Francis shrugged, sitting straight in his chair as if he hadn’t just been smearing icing across his partner’s cheek. “You started it.”

Arthur stood up, dropping his napkin to the table. “I’m going to clean up, do try to behave while I’m gone.”

Before he left, Arthur used his finger to leave a second swipe of frosting across Francis’s cheek. 

* * *

 

_“I wish I could do better by you, ‘cause that’s what you deserve.”_

Alfred pulled Kiku close, leaving a trailing hand on the small of his back. His husband looked up at him with stars in his eyes as they swayed across the dance floor. They had an audience, for their first dance as a couple, but the only people that mattered in that moment were the two of them.

“Did you ever think things would turn out this way?” He asked, softly.

“ _While I'm off chasing my own dreams, sailing around the world, please know that I'm yours to keep_.”

After a moment’s consideration, Kiku shook his head. “No. It is better than I thought.”

“ _If you were to leave, fulfill someone else's dreams, I think I might totally be lost_.”

Alfred leaned down to trail soft kisses along the shell of his ear. “I can’t wait to spend every day of the rest of my life with you, I hope you know how much I mean that.”

Kiku squeezed his hand in reply. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

“ _I wish I could do better by you, 'cause it's what you deserve_.” 

* * *

 

“Dance with me?”

Matthew looked up to find Gilbert watching with a shyly, hopeful expression. “No” was on the tip of his tongue, but his traitorous hand found itself outstretched towards Gilbert all on its own. Once Alfred and Kiku had finished their first dance, a few more couples made their way to the dance floor as well, but it was still relatively empty as most people were still recovering from the obscene amount of food served. Matthew did his best not to think about who all could see them.

“ _If you must wait, wait for them here in my arms as I shake. If you must weep, do it right here in my bed as I sleep.”_

“I’m sorry.”

Matthew reeled back as if he had been slapped.

“What?”

“I wasn’t really sure where to start, but that seemed like the best place, so I’m sorry, Mattie.”

Matthew looked away. He couldn’t look into Gilbert’s face and fall into the same patterns as always. “For what?”

“ _If you must mourn, don't do it alone_.”

“For everything.” Matthew rolled his eyes. A warm hand cradled his cheek, bringing his eyes back to Gilbert’s face. “I’m serious. For everything. For not making up my mind, for not seeing the signs, for acting like I was ashamed of you when you were the best thing in my life, for lying.”

“ _If you must speak, speak every word as though it were unique.”_

Matthew swallowed past the lump in his throat. “What did you lie about? When?”

“ _If you must die, sweetheart, die knowing your life was my life's best part_.”

Gilbert smiled sadly. “It wasn’t just sex. Maybe it started that way, years ago, but it hasn’t been, in a long time. And that scared me. But I never should have lied to you about it like I did.”

Matthew could feel his heart pounding in his chest. But more than that, he could feel Gilbert’s own pulse racing. He searched the man’s face for answers, for signs of fear but he simply stared back at him, open, heart-broken, hopeful.

“ _If you must live, darling one, just live.”_

“It took you three years to figure that out?”

Gilbert laughed softly, burying the noise in Matthew’s shoulder. “You weren’t sleeping with my for my brains were you?”

They stayed there, swaying as the song ended and faded into the next one, holding each other, neither ready to take the final leap just yet, as if they were waiting for the other to finally flee.

“Can we start over?” Gilbert asked.

“How?”

Gilbert pulled back, just enough to be sure Matthew was looking him in the eye as he spoke. “Will you go out with me? On a date? A real one. I want to do it right this time. Every step of the way.”

Matthew pressed his lips together, not trusting himself to speak. But he nodded. 

* * *

 

“Arthur?”

Francis felt Arthur stiffen in his arms. So much for his dance. Turning his head, Francis came face to face with an older woman, staring intently at Arthur. Her pale hair was pulled away from her pinched face in a harsh up-do. Her simple dress matched her olive-green eyes. Her son’s eyes. Francis kept his arms around Arthur, doing his best to serve as a barricade between the two on the crowded dance floor.

“Hello, mother. I’m glad you could make it to celebrate Alfred. I’m sure it means the world to him.” Arthur may as well have been reading from cue cards for all the emotion that was in his voice.

The woman’s eyes trailed from her son to Francis with what he could only assume to be disdain. “Who’s this?”

“Mother, I’d like you to meet Francis Bonnefoy. Francis, my mother, Emma Kirkland.” Arthur said, with a half-hearted gesture between the two of them.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Francis lied with a careful smile. He kept his arms around Arthur, rather than offering Emma a greeting.

She didn’t seem inclined to do so either. “Why are you with him?”

Francis wasn’t sure he had ever hated someone upon their first meeting like he did this woman. “Excuse me?”

Emma ignored him. “I am honestly surprised you found it in yourself to show up at all, let alone dragging some poor soul with you.”

Francis dropped a hand from Arthur’s waist to intertwine their fingers. Arthur looked between their hands and Francis.

“Alfred and I have made up. And Francis and I are…together, Mother.”

Francis squeezed his hand reassuringly, doing his best to ignore the fluttering of joy in his chest at Arthur’s admittance. Now was not the time.

“Really?” Emma turned to looked Francis up and down. “For how long?”

Francis recoiled. “Why does that possibly matter?”

“Ah, not long then. That makes more sense.” She turned back to Arthur. “Do try not to make too much of a trouble for everyone when this one inevitably leaves. And do behave yourself for the rest of the night, the stories do still come back to me.”

With that, the woman turned on her heel and left. Francis started after her, fully prepared to give her a piece of his mind, but Arthur held him in place.

“It’s not worth it.” He said softly.

“Arthur-”

“I need some air.”

Francis expected Arthur to let go of his hand as he left the dance floor, but the Englishman held tight. The two made their way back to the gardens, conveniently the opposite direction of where his mother disappeared. Several guests had come out for fresh air or a break from the noise but Arthur paid them no mind. They walked until they found a section shrouded in silence, away from everyone else. Only then did Arthur drop Francis’s hand, in order to take a seat on the small stone bench.

“I’m sorry, Francis. I don’t know what I was thinking dragging you out here with me. You do not have to stay.” Arthur apologized, looking at the short rose bush beside him.

“I want to be here. I’ll go if you want me to, but you did not force me to do anything.”

Arthur shook his head. “Why would you want to be out here with me, instead of at a party?”

Francis sat beside Arthur, effectively forcing the blond to actually look at him, rather than the flowers. “ _Mon chou…_ no, Arthur, I love you.”

The silence could have been cut with a knife. Arthur gaped at Francis, looking as if he truly had turned into a frog suddenly. Arthur’s mouth open and closed but no sound came, save for a choked “What?”

“I said ‘I love you.’”

Arthur slapped his chest. “I heard you, you unbelievable prick. You can’t.”

“I can’t?” Francis asked, incredulously.

“No.”

“Why not?”

Arthur continued to stare at Francis as if he had gone mad. “I don’t know. You just can’t. It’s too early?”

Francis shrugged one shoulder. Not something he normally would have thought to do during a love confession, but there’s a first time for everything. “Not for me.”

Arthur searched his face for something. “Why?”

“Why does there have to _be_ a ‘why’? Because I do.”

Arthur’s eyes turned to the ground. “I-I-”

Francis reached out to cradle Arthur’s jaw, pulling his eyes back to him. There was something close to fear in Arthur’s eyes. “You don’t have to say it back, Arthur. I did not say it just to hear it. I just wanted you to know.”

Relief. And something happier, but hesitant.

“Why?”

“Everyone should know someone loves them.”

The silence stretched, and for a brief, terrifying moment, Francis wondered if maybe he made a grave mistake. And then, Arthur’s expression changed to something intense, thrilling. “Kiss me.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Cupping Arthur’s face, Francis slotted their mouths together. Holding him close, he tasted residual wine, frosting, mint. When they broke for air, Arthur chased him, pulling Francis to him by his suit coat.

“Again.”

Francis smiled against Arthur’s cheek. “As many times as you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so far out of the Hetalia fandom right now, I'm not sure that any of this is relatively in-character but God I hope so. I also realized by bringing Arthur's mother into this, this chapter could have gotten really depressing but I wanted to avoid that at all costs so hopefully it all still made sense.
> 
> Oh yes, the song lyrics that are used when they are dancing are The Girl by City and Colour (Ameripan) and You by Keaton Henson (PruCan)


	30. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a short epilogue because I always wanted the story to end on this note. I hope you enjoy it~
> 
> And a huge thank you to everyone who followed this story as long as they have, whether that was from the very beginning on fanfiction.net or if you just found it today and read it all, thank you. I am not involved in Hetalia anymore, but this story has been with me for years. I've made friends through readers of this story. I can literally see myself growing as a person and a writer when I go through the old chapters. This has been a ridiculously stretched out, but amazing, journey and it means the world to me that so many people wanted to be a part of it with me. Thank you.

At 6:30, 31-year-old Arthur Kirkland awoke, in a large, but crowded bed, just as he had been doing nearly every day for three years. His boyfriend was curled around his back, stubble scratching along his neck. Their two cats occupied the foot of the bed, leaving just enough room to make sharing with them bearable. Slipping out of bed, ignoring the three groans of protest, Arthur went to take his morning shower.

He had a quiet, six minutes of peace before Francis joined him in the shower, effectively distracting him for another ten minutes. When they finally emerged, Arthur went to dress while Francis went to make breakfast.

Dressed in simple slacks and a white button up, and equipped with a new book from the library, Arthur enjoyed a breakfast of tea and croissant on their balcony. Francis sat beside him, reading of his shoulder, sipping coffee and stealing bites of Arthur’s croissant when he thought the Englishman wasn’t paying attention. Usually, by that time of the morning, Alice and Françoise came to bask in the sun with them.

By 7:30, Arthur went to finish getting dressed. If he was left, undisturbed by his flatmates, Arthur was ready for his day by 7:40.

Francis and the cats met Arthur at the door before he could leave, as they did almost every morning. Francis said farewell with a sweet, occasionally lengthy kiss, and a packed lunch: “So you can stop poisoning yourself, _mon chou_.” As if Francis had not been ensuring Arthur did no such thing for the past four years.

By 7:50, most days, Arthur was on his way down the stairs to the lobby of their apartment building. He exchanged greetings with any neighbors he might pass on the way.

Living in the final building of the sprawling apartment complex shortened the morning walk Arthur once used to take considerably. But some things, blissfully, stayed the same. As he came around the side of the building, Arthur could see Francis waiting for him on their balcony, a cigarette hanging idly from his lips. When he saw Arthur, Francis smiled down at him.

“ _Au revoir,_ Arthur.”

“Goodbye, Francis.”

“Have a good day at work.”

“I will do my best.”

Arthur moved to continue on his way, but a soft whistle caught his attention.

“One more thing, _mon amour_.” When Arthur turned around, Francis tossed something down to him. Arthur nearly didn’t catch the small box in his surprise. “Will you marry me?”

A long moment passed as Arthur couldn’t seem to do more than stare up at the Frenchman smiling softly down at him. Eventually, Francis gave a casual wave of his hand, and Arthur finally turned his attention to the small box in his hand.

Flipping it open, Arthur discovered a thin gold band nestled in the black velvet. A simple design was carved along the ring. It was simple. It was beautiful. It was…

Arthur looked back up to Francis. “You are absolutely insane.”

“Is that a yes?”

Taking the ring out of the box, Arthur slipped it onto his finger.

Perfect.

When Arthur looked back up, Francis was gone from the balcony. A moment later, however, the door to the lobby opened and Francis stumbled out. Hair a mess, barefoot, baggy clothes hanging off of him in a picture of nonchalance.

Francis came closer, slipping the box from Arthur’s hands and placing it back in his pocket. Francis took Arthur’s left hand in both of his and lifted it to examine the ring.

“It fits?”

Arthur couldn’t be bothered to fight the smile he felt coming. “I somehow don’t think you’re actually surprised.”

Francis hid his own smile by pressing a soft kiss to the ring. “Is that a yes?”

“Kiss me.” Arthur ordered.

Francis looked up at him through his eyelashes. “Every day.” He promised.

“For the rest of our lives?”

Intertwining their fingers, Francis stepped closer. “If you’ll have me.”

Knotting his fingers in Francis’s curls, Arthur stole a kiss for himself. “Every day.”


End file.
